Once Upon a Thanksgiving
by Snapegirlkmf
Summary: A traditional Thanksgiving menu has a toddler Regina and the Gold children staging Operation Save the Turkey-a protest that will involve all of Storybrooke in a never to be forgotten Thanksgiving saga. Rumbelle, Swanfire, Snowing pairings. GS AU, Regal Baby fic!
1. Disturbing Realization

**Once Upon a Thanksgiving**

**By Snapegirlkmf**

**A traditional Thanksgiving menu has a toddler Regina and the Gold children staging Operation Save the Turkey-a protest that will involve all of Storybrooke in a never to be forgotten Thanksgiving saga. Rumbelle, Swanfire, Snowing pairings. GS AU, Regal Baby fic!**

**1**

**Disturbing Realization**

It all started with a trip to the movies.

Mayor David Nolan decided to spend some quality father/daughter time with his baby girl, and one day a few weeks before Thanksgiving, he took Regina to see the new animated flick Free Birds. Little did he know watching that innocent children's movie would spark something that would have far reaching consequences not just for the Golds and Charmings, but all of Storybrooke. But that was how it began.

They went to see the movie four days before Thanksgiving, since this year Thanksgiving was on the 28th, on a balmy crisp fall Sunday afternoon. David chose a matinee since then Snow could come with them, and they all piled in Snow's van and went to the theater. They spent a rather entertaining hour and a half watching the movie, and after it was over, went to go to Granny's for some ice cream.

"So how did you like the movie, Regina?" asked David as they were shown to a booth by Ruby.

"It was good," she answered. "I think Reggie was right, Daddy. We shouldn't have turkey for Thanksgiving."

David gave her tolerant smile. "Honey, that's just a movie. Eating turkey for Thanksgiving is . . . err . . . a tradition here. But don't worry about it. Let's have some ice cream, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed, though some of the things discussed in the movie continued to trouble her, but the lure of ice cream made her push them to the back of her mind for now. "I want chocolate and cookies and cream with whipped cream an' a cherry on top."

"And I think I'll have cherry vanilla with chocolate sauce and walnuts," Snow said.

"I'll have Rocky Road and walnuts with butterscotch sauce," David said.

Once they had all eaten their ice cream, they returned home to their loft so Regina could get together the Thanksgiving crafts she and Snow had made for the family. They would be going over to Gold's house tonight for dinner and so would Emma, Bae, and Henry, since it was Sunday, and the family usually tried to all eat together for dinner.

As they were driving down the road back home, Regina looked out the window and pointed to something she'd never noticed before. "Mommy, what's that big sign say?"

Snow looked out the window. "It's . . . umm . . . a sign for Mr. Fox's Turkey Farm, Regina."

"What's that?"

"It's a farm where he raises turkeys," her mother replied.

"Like for pets?"

"Um . . . well . . ." Snow hesitated to tell her what he was really doing with the turkeys.

"Pets?" David chuckled. "Now who'd want a turkey for a pet? They'd wreck the whole house. You'd need a big farm to keep a turkey."

"Like Mr. Fox has," Regina pointed out.

"Regina, Mr. Fox has a farm for turkeys, yeah, but they're not raised for pets," David began, braking for a light and thus missing Snow's frantic signals to change the conversation. Totally oblivious, he continued to educate his daughter on certain facts. "They're raised for Thanksgiving dinner."

Regina was horrified. "He . . . he's gonna _eat_ the turkeys!?" she wailed.

"Well, yeah, because that's what you do with turkey," David told her.

Snow elbowed him.

"Hey! What?"

"David! Why'd you tell her that?" his wife hissed.

In the backseat, Regina started sniffling and crying, thinking about the poor turkeys fated to die on Thanksgiving.

"Well, because it's the truth," he began, puzzled. "And, you know, we should always try and tell the truth because—"

"Please! Now look what you've done!" Snow snapped, then she turned to try and comfort Regina. "Regina, honey, don't cry."

"But Mommy, all the turkeys is gonna die!" she sobbed.

"No . . . of course they're not. You know, not everybody eats turkey for Thanksgiving," Snow said, trying to do some damage control.

"They don't?"

"No. Some people eat . . . other things," Snow said brightly.

"Like pizza?" Regina suggested.

"Um . . . well . . . yeah . . ."

David rolled his eyes. That might be true, but they were having turkey for Thanksgiving. He'd already put a down payment on a bird from Mr. Fox's farm. Regina would get over her squeamishness. It was just because she'd seen that movie with the talking turkeys that she didn't want to eat one. It would pass, he thought, and turned and pulled into their parking space.

"C'mon, punkin'," he said to his daughter. "Let's go get all those cool Thanksgiving crafts you and Mommy made for everybody. You have to remind me who gets what, since I forgot."

"Okay, Daddy. I'll remind you . . . _again_." Regina said, with the air of having repeated something a million times and why couldn't you just remember what she'd said?

David unbuckled her from her car seat and she dragged him inside the loft and up the stairs, talking a mile a minute about the paper plate turkeys and cardboard hand turkeys she'd made, as well as the Indian headbands and pilgrim hats she'd made also. "An' everybody's gotta wear a hat for Thanksgiving," she told David, who chuckled evilly at that, imagining having to tell Rumple he had to wear one.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Gold's Victorian:_

"Belle, why was the grumpy dwarf just leaving here? Did you need an emergency repair done?" Rumple asked as he saw Leroy leaving the house just as he had arrived home from the supermarket, carrying a few groceries for dinner.

Belle gave him a rather sheepish grin, cupping her now enormous belly. "No, just a little installation work in the living room. And the bedroom."

Gold stared around his formerly comfortable living room with its brown leather couch and recliners, Chippendale table, curio cabinet, and end tables. "What is this, dearie? Trellises along all of the walls? Pots of jasmine and tea roses growing up the walls? Why?"

Belle gestured about at the dozens of Japanese style pots and pretty wrought iron trellises holding all of the colorful flowers. "Aren't they just beautiful? And they smell divine!"

Rumple sniffed and wrinkled his nose, frowning. "That "divine" odor you smell is manure! You fertilized them with manure? In the house?"

"Oh, that's only temporary. The smell will clear out in a couple of days."

"But Belle, they'll just die without sunlight."

"Oh, no they won't. I had Leroy install grow lights."

"Grow lights? Like a . . . greenhouse?" Suddenly something blue and black flew past his nose. "What are...are those...butterflies? Dozens of _butterflies_ in the living room?"

"Of course...they help with the pollination," Belle informed him blithely.

Rumple felt he was rapidly losing control of the situation. "Belle, I appreciate your love of fresh flowers, but isn't this a bit much?" He knew that pregnant women often got odd . . . urges and cravings, but _this_?

"Not really, sweetheart. It just makes for the perfect environment. Wait until you see the roses in the bedroom!" she cried excitedly.

"Roses? In the _bedroom_?"

"And tulips and daisies and a lovely wisteria on the balcony."

Rumple gaped at her. "You must be joking! It looks like a fairy house in here!" He gazed at his wife in alarm, suddenly noticing her pretty pastel robe of soft mint green with lacy long "winged" sleeves and sparkly slippers. Belle even had woven a crown of flowers in her hair. "And you look like . . . a nature goddess, dearie." Or a fairy . . . but he was _so_ not going there!

"Do you like it?" Belle queried, twirling about a little.

"Um . . . yes, of course. You look very lovely . . . and spring like . . . even if it is fall," Gold said. He normally loved Belle in whatever she was wearing . . . or not wearing when they were alone . . . but certainly her sudden fetish with pastels and floral patterns was . . . disconcerting to say the least.

"Are we making dinner soon? All of a sudden, I'm starving!" Belle said, for lately her morning sickness was being replaced by odd cravings at any hour of the day. As well as a sudden desire to surround herself with flowers and butterflies. "What are you making again?"

"Uh . . . well, I thought we'd have some lasagna, Alice gave us that pan of it and we froze it, remember? So all I have to do is thaw it out and make some chicken marsala and salad and some garlic bread," Rumple began.

"That's good, but Rumple, I think I want some tacos too and how about some Spanish rice?" Belle suggested, licking her lips.

"You want . . . Mexican _and_ Italian?"

"Uh huh. Why? Is there something wrong with that?"

"No . . . I just . . . okay . . ." he said, thanking God that he had all the ingredients for both kinds of dinners in his pantry. "Why don't you go sit down and uh . . . I'll bring you some tea and some of those little honey cakes you like?"

"Thanks, Rumple! And make sure the tea is rose petal, okay?" Belle told him, seating herself on the recliner and putting her feet up, inhaling the aroma of roses, jasmine, and giggling as Nala pounced at a butterfly fluttering along the wall.

"Sure, dearie," he muttered. "Rose petal tea, honey cakes . . . what's next? Candied violet blossoms?" he went into the kitchen to make the tea, thinking that this pregnancy brought out the oddest urges in his wife. He wondered if it was normal, and decided to ask Snow or Emma when he saw them tonight at dinner.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

"Papa, why are we making tacos and Spanish rice _and_ lasagna and chicken marsala?" Alina asked as she helped him dip the chicken in an egg white and flour mixture after she had arrived home from Grace's house.

"Because that's what your mama wants tonight for supper, dearie," he replied, sautéing the mushrooms and onions in some light butter and olive oil. "You know how she gets now, Alina."

His daughter nodded. "Like the time she wanted pickles and watermelon? Or was it watermelon pickles?"

Gold shared a smile with her. "I'm not sure now. But it doesn't matter. Whatever she wants, I'll get her."

"Is that why there's roses and butterflies in the living room?" Alina asked as she carefully laid the breaded chicken in the pan with the butter.

"Yes, dearie. Your mama thinks they smell divine," he replied, stirring the mushrooms.

"Well, they do smell pretty," Alina admitted. She finished with the chicken and then cut a long loaf of Italian bread lengthwise and began spreading melted butter, minced garlic, and parmesan cheese on it. Then she put it on a baking sheet. "Okay, that's done. You want me to do the ground beef for the tacos now?"

"Yes, if you don't mind. The seasonings are in the taco kit," Rumple said. "It's a good thing Alice taught you how to cook, dearie."

"And you too," Alina reminded him, gesturing and summoning the package of ground beef from the fridge.

While she was making the seasoned ground beef, Rumple began mixing together the sauce for the chicken marsala. "Perhaps I should call Bae and ask him to make a salad and bring it," he mused, and reached in his pocket for his phone.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

"Rumple, here's your salad," Emma called as she entered Gold's Victorian about an hour later, carrying a large wooden bowl of salad.

"I made some balsamic vinegrette to go with it, Papa," Bae said, holding a plastic cruet in one hand.

Henry followed, holding a box of donuts, and paused when he saw all the greenery and flowers all over the living room, and his grandma napping among it. "Wow! Grandpa, what's this? It's like an indoor conservatory or something!"

"Is that a . . . butterfly?" Emma gasped, as a butterfly fluttered right in front her face.

"Yeah, looks like a blue swallowtail," Bae remarked. "Papa, you trying to imitate a fairy bower or something?"

"Of course not, Bae!" Gold said, coming into the foyer. "This is just . . . your mama wanted to . . . err . . . have some color and greenery in the house. So she . . . uh . . . put in some roses and jasmine and . . . well . . ."

"Henry! Look at our living room!" Alina exclaimed. "It's like Kensington Gardens or something."

"Cool! I brought donuts," he said, showing her the box. "Where should I put them?"

"In the kitchen. And then we can try and identify all the species of butterflies in here. I bought a book on my Nook," Alina said, waving around her tablet.

Henry sent the box of donuts into the kitchen using his magic, then joined his best friend in the living room and tried to catch some butterflies in his hand using the remains of the honey cake sitting beside Belle on the end table.

Emma and Bae continued on into the kitchen to put the salad and dressing on the counter, and ask if there was anything else Gold needed to be done before dinner was served.

Emma and Bae had finished setting the table in the dining room when the Charmings walked through the door a few moments later.

"What the—hey, Rumple you trying to showcase the prayer garden at the convent or something?" David called, gazing around Gold's living room.

"Wow! Those are lovely!" Snow cried. "Oh, is that a champagne tea rose! Look, Regina, at the beautiful butterfly!"

Regina, whose hands were full of the bag of Thanksgiving crafts, promptly dropped them on the floor and ran over to where Snow was standing next to the trellis of climbing roses and squealed, "Oooh, Mommy! Why's Unca Rumple have roses in his house?" She sniffed and wrinkled her nose. "What's that weird smell? It smells . . . like poop."

"Uh . . ." Snow groped about for something to say. "It's . . . fertilizer! So the roses grow big and strong."

"Oh. But why's it smell like that?"

"It's manure, dearie," Rumple said, coming up to them. He waved a hand and the smell was dispersed. "There! How's that?"

"Better," Regina said, and she hugged him. "Unca Rumple, why's your house got flowers in it like a fairy's?"

Rumple winced. "Because Auntie Belle likes flowers, Regina. A lot. And it's not a fairy house . . it's like . . . a garden," he said quickly.

"I think it's pretty. Like Pixie Hollow," Regina stated artlessly. Then she recalled the bag she had dropped and raced over to it. "Look, Unca Rumple! I made you a turkey!" She dug through the bag until she found the turkey she had made by tracing her hand on some brown cardboard and putting colored feathers on it for the tail and red construction paper for the head and gluing a shiny black button for its eye.

She ran and handed it to him proudly. "I made it myself."

"For me?" Rumple knelt and took the paper turkey from her. "It's lovely, dearie. You did a great job!"

"Mommy helped a little," Regina said, then she pointed to where she had written her name on the back. "See? She helped me write from Regina on it."

"We'll put this right on the refrigerator so everyone can see it," Rumple said.

Regina clapped her hands. "Here, Auntie Belle! I made you a Indian corn!" she found the paper craft of Indian corn made from construction paper, and real corn stalks and went over to give it to Belle, who had woken up when she heard Regina's voice.

Belle sat up, and took the Indian corn from the little girl. "Oh, Regina! How beautiful! I'm going to put this on the wall in the foyer. It'll look perfect there, and just in time for Thanksgiving." She hugged and kissed her niece, then slowly levered herself off the recliner to say hello to the rest of her family.

Regina went to give a turkey to Bae and a pumpkin to Emma that she had made, and she gave Henry and Alina turkeys too.

"Thanks, Regina!" Henry said, and smothered a giggle. Turning to Alina, he whispered, "I remember making one of these in school when I was little and giving it to her . . . and now she's giving _me_ one."

"I think it's sweet," Alina smiled at her cousin. "I'm going to put this on the wall next to Mama's corn."

"I'll hang mine on our fridge," Henry said. "I'll like looking at it and thinking about Thanksgiving dinner."

"Me too. Alice is making green bean casserole and Mama and I are making chestnut stuffing with cranberries and candied yams," Alina said.

"My mom's making crescent rolls and Dad's doing his special cranberry relish," Henry said.

"Grace said she's making pumpkin pie and raviolis. And Papa's doing the mashed potatoes."

"I'm helping Daddy make gravy and . . . broccoli with cheese," said Regina. "And Mommy's making apple pie."

"Papa and I are doing chocolate pecan pretzel pie," Alina told them.

"Who's making the turkey?" Henry wondered.

"Uh . . . I think Snow and David are," Alina said.

Regina shook her head rapidly making her dark curls bounce. "No! We ain't havin' no turkey for Thanksgiving!"

"Huh? Why not? You're supposed to have turkey on Thanksgiving," Henry exclaimed.

"Nuh uh. Not unless you wanna murder the turkey!" Regina said, and she started to cry. "Turkeys are our friends, Henry!"

"Yeah, but . . . err . . ." he looked helplessly at Alina.

"Hey, where'd you hear that, Regina?" Alina asked.

"Daddy and Mommy and I went to watch Free Birds today," Regina told her.

"That's that new cartoon movie about Thanksgiving, right?" Henry asked.

"Uh huh. An' this turkey named Reggie was pardoned by the president . . . so's they wouldn't eat him on Thanksgiving . . . an' it's wrong to eat turkey, Henry. Turkeys are living things, an' they gots a right to live too!" the toddler said seriously. "Would _you_ wanna get eaten for dinner?"

"No!" her nephew said, snickering. "But Regina, we always eat turkey for Thanksgiving."

She glared at him stubbornly. "So? Then maybe we oughta eat something else."

"Like what?"

"Pizza!" she cried.

"Pizza?" echoed Alina.

"Uh huh. Cause I ain't having Thanksgiving if we have turkey!" Regina stated. "I don't want no turkeys to die!" she started sniffling again.

Alina exchanged glances with Henry. "Umm . . . you know . . . I don't want turkeys to die either . . . and you know what just opened up over on Mifflin Street . . . where the mayor's old house used to be."

"Yeah, I know. Mr. Fox's fowl farm," Henry said. "He's having a special on turkeys for Thanksgiving."

"No! No turkeys!" Regina howled, stamping a foot on the floor. "It's 'sgusting!"

"What's disgusting, dearie?" Rumple asked.

"Killing turkeys for Thanksgiving!" Regina cried. "It's mean and nasty! An' we ain't doin' it!"

Rumple raised an eyebrow. "We going vegan or something this holiday?"

"It's because she saw that movie Free Birds," David said, sighing. "I thought it would be cute for us to see something together, so Snow and I went to the matinee . . ." he led Rumple away towards the dining room.

"I hope not," Bae said to Emma. "I love it when the turkey's all crispy and hot and juicy right out of the oven. And after we can all watch football on TV and root for the Cardinals."

"It's the Patriots here. We're not in Phoenix," Emma reminded him.

"I'm still a Cardinals fan," Bae argued. "And I like my turkey with stuffing and gravy."

"No!" Regina sobbed, getting even more upset. "Alina, Henry, we gotta save the turkeys!"

"How can we do that?" Henry asked.

Alina shrugged. "I don't know."

"I'll tell you how!" Regina cried, and was about to pull them aside when Rumple called, "Time to eat, children!"

"Come on, Regina," Henry said, taking her hand. "You can tell us how to save the turkeys after dinner."

"Okay. But we is _not_ havin' turkey on Thanksgiving," the little imp insisted, following her nephew into the dining room.

As Belle started into the dining room, waddling as she often did nowadays, Snow caught her arm. "Belle . . . have you told him yet?"

Belle turned, blushing, and looked guilty, before whispering, "No. Not yet. I . . . I've been trying to . . . come up with a way to . . . explain it to him . . ."

"Belle, you have to tell him eventually," Snow hissed. "If he finds out before you do . . . it'll hurt him that you didn't say something . . . it'll look like you were keeping secrets from him."

"I know . . . and I will . . . it's just difficult . . ." Belle sighed. She really didn't know how she was going to explain what had happened to Rumple, and yet she also knew Snow was right. Her husband did need to know . . . and sooner rather than later. Biting her lip, she said, "Let's not discuss this right now, okay? I'm starving, so let's eat!"

Snow nodded. "It smells delicious in there. David and I brought brownies, because they're Regina's favorite. What's for dinner?"

"Rumple and Alina made chicken marsala, garlic bread, tacos, Spanish rice, and Alice made lasagna. Emma made a salad with homemade dressing and Henry brought donuts," Belle recited. The smells coming from the dining room were mouthwatering and her stomach was grumbling noisily.

"Hmm, that's interesting. Italian and Mexican," Snow said, and then she joined the rest of the family at the table, where David was pouring iced tea for everyone.

"Everything okay, dearie?" Rumple asked Belle, helping her sit down next to him.

"Everything's fine, Rumple!" Belle said cheerily. "Now let's eat."

**A/N: So . . . who knows what's up with Belle and what she needs to tell Rumple? Thanks to cynicsquest for help with Belle's cravings and the new house decorations.**


	2. The Plan

**2**

**The Plan**

Henry tapped Bae on the arm and said, "Dad, can you please pass the tacos?"

Bae reached over into the middle of the table and picked up the plate of tacos and held them out to his son. "What's this, tiger? This is like the third taco you've eaten."

Henry took another one and put lettuce, cheese, and some mild hot sauce on it and put it on his plate next to some lasagna. "I don't know. I'm, uh, extra hungry or something."

Bae eyed his son. "Huh. Maybe you're getting a growth spurt or something."

Rumple nodded. "Could be, Bae. You did when you were around twelve or eleven, and isn't your birthday coming up in a few weeks, Henry?"

"Yeah. December 5th," Henry answered, then bit into his third taco. They were extra good tonight. He chewed and swallowed before asking his grandfather, "Am I gonna get to pick something from your shop too?"

"Do you really think I'm going to answer that, dearie?" Rumple smirked. "It's a surprise." He cut his chicken marsala and ate some. "Hey, this is actually pretty good, if I do say so myself."

"Alice taught you well," Belle smiled at him, eating her lasagna.

"She even taught me a few things, and that's like a miracle," Emma chuckled. "I'm making some maple rolls for Thanksgiving."

"I'm sure they'll be wonderful, Emma," Snow said.

"And probably better than the first time Snow tried to bake rolls for the dwarves," Charming said. "Grumpy told me they were kind of like . . . hockey pucks."

Snow glared at her husband and Regina, Alina, and Henry giggled. "Real nice, David. Is it my fault I wasn't allowed in the kitchen when I was growing up?"

"How come, Mommy?" asked Regina curiously.

"Because princesses usually didn't cook," Snow told her.

"Unless you were like me, who was so eccentric that I cooked with my best friend," Belle said. "Then again, that was because my father really didn't care what I was doing once I was out of his sight, and I took advantage of that fact to do what I wanted."

"Well, if it weren't for Alice, we'd still be eating Kraft and Hamburger Helper," remarked Emma.

"Or hamburgers," Bae admitted. "Or fajitas. I make a mean steak, pepper, and onion one."

"Where'd _you_ learn to cook?" asked David.

"My adopted mom, Kristine," Bae answered. "She liked to cook, and she taught me, when she could get my butt into the kitchen, that is. I cooked more when I had my own apartment later on though. I can even make oatmeal cookies. And cranberry-orange relish. That was one of her favorite recipes for Thanksgiving."

"And you're making it this year, right?" Henry clarified.

"That's a yes," Bae nodded.

"I can't wait to taste it," David said. "That's one of my favorite things with turkey."

Regina suddenly dropped her fork with a clatter. "No, Daddy! We isn't havin' turkey for Thanksgiving!" she said, her lower lip trembling.

David groaned. "Why did I ever take her to see that dumb movie?"

"What've you got against eating turkey, Regina?" asked Bae, who was also looking forward to it.

"'Cause you have to kill a turkey an' it's mean an' nasty!" the toddler retorted.

"Yeah, but you have to kill a lot of—" Bae began, only to have Emma kick him under the table and shake her head at him. "Emma, I'm just saying—"

"Don't," his wife warned. "You can save that talk until she's grown up."

Bae shot her a frown. "Why? I knew about it when I was a little kid."

"That was different," Emma argued. "You had to, over there. It was like being in Little House on the Prairie. But if you tell her anything like that, Baelfire, she won't eat or something. So don't even go there."

"Okay, whatever," Bae said, rolling his eyes. Then he ate another helping of chicken.

"So we's not eatin any turkey," Regina declared, then she ate some more of her lasagna.

David just looked amused at that comment.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

After dessert, Regina, Henry, and Alina went outside to talk in Alina's treehouse. Once they were all inside, Henry said, "Okay, Regina. So tell us how we're gonna save the turkeys."

"Well, in the movie, you needed the president to pardon the turkeys so's nobody ate them for Thanksgiving," the toddler said, delighted to be the one telling her older cousins something for once.

"Uh . . . well, what if we can't do that?" Alina said. "Thanksgiving's almost here and it'd take too long to write a letter to the White House or something."

"And I heard Mr. Fox has got over forty turkeys on his farm, and most of 'em are probably going to be somebody's dinner on Thanksgiving," Henry sighed.

Regina started crying. "Noo! We can't let the turkeys die!"

"How do they kill the turkeys anyway?" Alina wondered.

"Uh . . . I think . . . they chop off their heads with an axe or something," Henry speculated.

"Eeew!" Regina squealed. "That's so _'sgusting_, Henry!"

Alina made a face. "You know, she's right. I never thought about it like that before . . . but it is gross."

"And I've read some other stuff online about how they force feed the turkeys and stuff." Henry grimaced. "And that's even grosser."

"Uh huh. And I've heard that people can get salmonella from turkey," Alina recalled.

"What's salmon-illa?" asked Regina.

Alina started giggling. "Not salmon-illa! _Salmonella_," she corrected the little girl. "It's this disease you can get from raw eggs and poultry. It can make you really sick and have to go to the hospital. Now _that's_ disgusting!"

Regina's mouth opened in an "O". "See? I toldja we shouldn't eat turkey."

"Okay. So maybe we don't have turkey for Thanksgiving," Henry said. "But what about everyone else who's buying turkeys from Mr. Fox?"

"Hmm . . . that could be a problem," Alina frowned.

"We gots to _save_ them, Alina!" Regina insisted.

"Yeah, I know, but even with our magic, it'd be almost impossible," Alina pointed out. "There are too many turkeys and not enough of us."

"Maybe we could ask Grace to help?" Henry suggested.

"That's still only three people," Alina sighed.

"I'll help!" Regina crowed.

"Okay, three and a half people," she amended.

"Uh . . . what about the Zimmerman twins? And Hans?"

"We'd have to ask them . . . and not when we're in school either. We don't want Snow knowing we're . . . uh . . . staging a protest," Alina said.

"Alina, what's that?" Regina wanted to know.

"A protest's like . . . uh . . . when you get a bunch of people together and they march up and down with signs for a cause . . . like saving the turkeys. And you have slogans and stuff and sometimes people get arrested, like at Woodstock," she told her cousin.

Regina looked alarmed. "Would Emma under arrest us?"

"Not if she doesn't find out," Henry replied. "Okay, so if we can get our friends to help us, we can . . umm . . . start Operation Save the Turkeys. I know! We can ask them tomorrow after school at karate class."

"That's a good idea! We have time before Bae comes in, we can ask them then," Alina said. "And if they agree, then what? We need to plan this out, Henry. We can't just rush in where angels fear to tread."

"Why? That's what I've always done," he objected.

Alina rolled her eyes. "And that's why a lot of your operations were shut down. We need a plan."

"Okay, Miss Smarty Pants. _You_ come up with a plan to get all the turkeys out of Mr. Fox's yard and . . . uh . .. what do we do with 'em afterwards?" Henry asked.

"See, this is why you need to plan things out," Alina said.

"That's why you're here," Henry reminded.

"We need someplace that people can't just go and take the turkeys from once we move them off of Fox's farm," Alina said.

"Where? The woods?"

"No . . . anybody can come there. And how could we keep forty turkeys all together in the woods?" Alina shook her head. "Use your head!"

Before Henry could reply, Regina spoke up. "I know. We can take 'em to the fairies!"

"The fairies? In the convent?" Henry repeated.

"You know, that's a good idea," Alina said. "In olden days, the nuns used to offer sanctuary to anyone who asked it. And sanctuary was something nobody could break . . . even if you were a king. It was sacred."

"How do you _know_ all this?" Henry asked.

"I read some books on the War of the Roses and the church," Alina replied. "So we can bring the turkeys there and ask for sanctuary from Mother Superior. And she has to grant it, because nobody ever turned someone away when they asked for it. So the turkeys will be safe there while we . . . uh . .. convince people to pardon them."

"How long will that take?" Henry wondered.

"I don't know. But we can worry about that later. For now, let's plan on talking to our friends before karate tomorrow," Alina said.

"I can give Grace one of my walkie talkies," Henry said. "That way I can keep in touch with her."

"I can keep in touch with you on my Nook," Alina said.

"How bout me?" Regina asked.

"Uh . . . I think Papa has another set of walkie talkies in his shop," she said. "I'll see tomorrow after school, and if he does I'll make a deal with him for them."

"Like what kind of deal?" Regina queried.

"Oh, you know. I'll . . . umm . . . help him cook for Thanksgiving or something," Alina said. "He usually takes chores in exchange for something I want in his shop . . . if it's not something magical. Then I can give one walkie-talkie to you, Regina, and call you on it when we're ready to begin Operation Turkey."

"And you can stay over my house or Alina's when we're ready to do it," Henry said. "We'll tell you when to ask Gramps and Gran, okay?"

Regina nodded. "'Kay, Henry!" She clapped her hands. "Now we're talkin'!"

Henry started laughing. "You know . . . I really love her like this!" he whispered to Alina.

Alina winked at him, then she hugged Regina. "You're too cute, little imp!"

Regina kissed Alina on the cheek. "I'm the baby—gotta love me!"

That brought another round of laughter from her cousins.

"Now you are, but what about when Auntie Belle has her babies?" Henry reminded her.

"Then I'll be their big cousin!" Regina stated. "Duh!"

"Yeah, Henry," Alina snickered. She gently shoved him.

He shoved her back. "Did your mom ever find out what she's having?"

"Uh . . . not yet. I think she can on her next doctor visit," Alina said. "If she wants to. But she might want to be surprised."

"Oh. I hope one's a boy. There's so many girls in this family," Henry said.

"You never know," Alina said.

Then they looked towards the patio, where Snow stood, calling them. "Regina! Honey, it's time to go home. I have to get up early tomorrow for work."

"Okay, Mommy!" Regina yelled back, then began to climb down the ladder of the treehouse.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Alina and Henry could hardly wait for the school day to be over. As today was Monday, Henry rode the bus home, since Bae was busy teaching a class and Emma was working at the station. He arrived home at Fire Mountain just in time to eat a snack, do his homework and change into his uniform before having karate with Bae and the rest of his friends.

As he arrived downstairs, taking the elevator down to the dojo, he met Grace and Alina at the front entrance, as Alice had dropped them off. "Hey, Henry," Grace waved at him as he hopped out of the elevator.

"Hey, Grace," he smiled at the blond girl. "Did Alina tell you yet?"

"Tell me what?" she asked, puzzled.

Henry drew her off to the side. "About Operation Save the Turkey."

"What's that about?" she asked, just as Eva and Nick came in, followed by Hans Mason.

Henry beckoned the Zimmerman twins and Hans over to a corner of the waiting room, next to the vending machines, and then he told them all about Operation Save the Turkey.

Eva and Nick looked wide-eyed at Baelfire's son. "But Henry . . ." Eva gasped. "Isn't taking the turkeys off Mr. Fox's farm sort of like stealing?"

"Nah," Hans disagreed. "Fox is a thief, he tried to cheat my dad when he went there once to get some hay for our goat, Maribel. My dad paid for a whole bale of hay and when we got home, we found it wasn't a full bale, part of it was missing, but Fox claimed we were lying and wouldn't give Dad his money back. So stealing from a thief ain't stealing, Eva, it's justice. Besides, I owe that little snot Ash Fox a punch in the eye for sneering at me and saying I was a horse's ass the other day. He thought I couldn't hear him, but he was wrong."

"Why'd he say that, Hans?" asked Nick curiously.

"Cause he was bragging about how many crows he shot in the woods and I called him a liar because he didn't shoot twenty of them like he said. I was there with my dad the day he claims he did, and he didn't even get one. So he's a liar and a snot and he needs a good beat down." Hans said.

"Taking the turkeys is better than beating him up," Henry said.

"Yeah, at least no turkeys will die," Grace said.

"I don't like Ash either," Nick said. "He called Eva and me foster care rejects, since we still can't find our dad. I think he got left behind in Fairy Tale Land. So we're still living with our Storybrooke parents."

"Did you bring your walkie talkies?" Alina asked Henry.

"Yup," Henry said, and he took a walkie talkie from his karate bag and handed it to Grace. "Did you find the other pair, Alina?"

"Right here," she unzipped her backpack and took one out and handed it to Eva. "Regina doesn't need one, since she'll be with us. But what about you, Hans?"

"You can IM me on my computer," the tall boy replied. "Here's my screenname," he scribbled it down on a piece of paper and gave it to Henry. "I just hope this works. Otherwise my ass is grass and my dad's the lawnmower."

"It will," Henry said confidently.

Just then Ashley, Bae's secretary called, "Guys, your class is starting in five minutes, better get in there."

"Thanks, Ashley!" Henry called, and they all trooped inside the main room of the dojo.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Gold residence:_

That night, Rumple and Belle made their special cranberry chestnut stuffing for Thanksgiving. Alina helped by chopping up the chestnuts while Belle put the stuffing cubes into the big bowl and mixed them with the dried cranberries and chicken broth while Rumple cooked the onions, carrots, and celery in a pan with some butter.

Once the vegetables were soft, Rumple added them with the chestnuts to the bowl. Then he beat two eggs in another bowl.

Belle seasoned the stuffing with some sea salt, freshly ground pepper, and pinches of fresh parsley, rosemary, sage, and thyme. She added the beaten eggs. Then she mixed it all together, added a bit more broth, tasted it, and then said, "This is finished and it tastes wonderful!"

"Let me see, dearie," Rumple said, and put a spoon into the stuffing and tasted some as well. "Mmm! Perfect."

They put it into a large foil pan with a lid and froze it until Thanksgiving.

After they had cleaned up, and Alina had been given a kiss goodnight and tucked into bed, Rumple and Belle went to sleep as well. Rumple fell asleep to the scent of climbing roses and wisteria in his bedroom, but Belle remained awake for another hour, tossing and turning restlessly, since it was difficult for her to get comfortable now that she was so huge.

Finally she fell into a light doze . . . and dreamed she was flying through the air like some great winged bird, soaring high above the earth, surrounded by a glittering cloud of pixie dust, being summoned by some eager child to grant the deepest wish of her heart. . .

Rumple woke to an odd sensation. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand, and saw by the glowing purple numbers that it was only three AM. Yawning, he turned over and tucked his hand beneath his pillow, lying on his side and trying to fall back to sleep. He heard Belle's soft breathing beside him and reached a hand back to clasp hers in his.

As he did so, he felt the bed do a strange sudden dip.

"Huh? That almost felt like . . . I was flying," he muttered, and turned over and sat up, blinking.

Rubbing his eyes, he lit up the tip of his finger, because there wasn't enough light from the moon coming in the sliding doors of his balcony tonight.

Then he looked around.

Belle was sleeping beside him, half the covers kicked off, since she grew hot now during the night because of the babies. He reached over to draw the covers around her and it was then he noticed it.

_The bed was floating about three feet in the air!_

His eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"Okay, wake up, Rumple!" he ordered himself. "The bed is _not_ flying through the air. It's a dream. Now wake the hell up!"

Suddenly, Belle sighed, and smiled in her sleep.

And the floating bed settled gently to the ground.

Rumple could swear he saw the sparkle of fairy dust as it did so.

No, he was dreaming. He had to be. No fairy would ever cross the threshold of his home.

Belle muttered something in her sleep.

"What was that, dearie?" Rumple asked tenderly, eager to focus on something besides the flying bed.

" . . . so lovely . . ." Belle said, her eyes fluttering open. She stared at Rumple, her blue eyes clouded with sleep. " . . . Rumple . . . I was flying . . . flying like a bird through the air . . ."

Rumple stroked her hair. "Go back to sleep, Belle. It was just a dream. Like the one I just had with the bed flying through the air."

Belle snuggled next to him, smiling, one hand cupped about her enormous abdomen.

Rumple sighed and settled back beneath the covers, curling up facing his wife, one hand resting atop hers on her belly. He allowed his magical light to go out and nestled into his pillow. As his eyes slowly drifted shut, he could almost swear he saw a faint glow in the air over Belle . . . like the last twinkling motes of fairy dust.

An instant later he was asleep, and when he woke the next morning, the only thing he noticed that was different was that the climbing roses on the trellis had all burst into bloom, despite the November chill.

_Huh. Must be that fertilizer Grumpy put down,_ he mused, and then went into the master bathroom to shave and dress for work, pushing to the back of his mind the disturbing dream he'd had last night of the bed flying through the air and a cloud of pixie dust surrounding it.

**A/N: Okay, Operation Save the Turkey has begun! And who knows where it will end! And will Rumple ever figure out just what is going on with Belle?**

**I have decided to post a Thanksgiving recipe for every chapter in this story, so check out Rumple's Recipe Corner at the end of each chapter for a new dish, dearies! And have a safe and happy Thanksgiving!**

**Rumple's Recipe Corner:**

**Rumbelle Cranberry Chestnut Stuffing**

6 cups torn bite-size pieces of day-old homemade-style white bread, lightly oven toasted

3 tablespoons butter

2 onions, diced

4 celery ribs, diced

1 carrot, diced

3 tablespoons minced fresh sage leaves

2 tablespoons minced fresh thyme leaves

1 tablespoon minced fresh rosemary leaf

8 ounces presoaked dried cranberries

1 (10 ounce) jar peeled whole roasted chestnuts, coarsely chopped

1/2 cup finely chopped fresh parsley leaves

1 -3 cuplow sodium chicken broth or 1 cup vegetable stock or 1 cup giblet stock

2 largeeggs, beaten to blend

sea salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

1

Place bread cubes into a large bowl.

2

In a large skillet saute the onions, the celery, the sage, the thyme, and the rosemary, in the butter over moderately low heat, stirring, until the vegetables are softened about 5 minutes, add the chestnuts, cranberries stirring, for 1 minute.

3

Add the vegetable mixture to the bread, tossing the mixture well, stir in the parsley and salt and pepper to taste, add as much broth just to soften and let the stuffing cool.

4

Mix in eggs.

5

The stuffing may be made 1 day in advance and kept covered and chilled. (To prevent bacterial growth do not stuff turkey cavities in advance.).

6

Makes enough to stuff a 12- to 14-pound turkey with extra to bake on the side.

7

Or bake covered in a well buttered 15 X 10 X 2-inch glass baking dish at 350 degrees for 30 minutes then remove foil for 15 minutes to crisp the top.


	3. Under Arrest

**3**

**Under Arrest**

Tuesday after school, Henry came home and helped Bae make the cranberry orange relish for Thanksgiving. Or rather, he watched while his father made it, grating the peel of an orange into the bowl, then adding the orange sections to the cranberries, some sugar and a small amount of cinnamon and pulse everything together in the food processor.

"You ought to add more cinnamon, Dad," Henry said.

Bae chuckled. "Henry, this is cranberry-orange relish, not cinnamon cranberry relish. A little's all you need, trust me." He scraped the relish into a container, tasted some, added a bit more sugar, then tasted it again and said, "Okay. Now we leave this in the fridge and give the flavors time to meld together. Then when we serve it with the turkey on Thanksgiving, it'll be perfect." He put the lid on the container and put it in the refrigerator.

"Dad, about the turkey . . ." Henry began.

"Aw, tiger, don't tell me you've bought into Regina's whole pity the poor turkey act," Bae groaned. "C'mon, Henry. You've eaten turkey for Thanksgiving before, now tell me, did you ever want to _not_ eat it before Regina started with her turkey bit?"

"Um . . . I never thought about it before, Dad," Henry admitted. "But . . . it does seem kind of . . . mean. In a way."

Bae sighed. "Look, tiger. Everything has to die some time, and for some animals, they die so we can live. It's the way of life, here and in the Enchanted Forest. There's nothing wrong with killing something to eat it, kid. We do it all the time."

"But Dad . . . what if we didn't have to eat turkey?" Henry protested. "We could eat something else . . . like pizza."

Bae looked at him skeptically. "Pizza? On Thanksgiving? Uh, sorry, tiger. You can do that if you want to, but I'm eating turkey. I look forward to eating turkey all year on Thanksgiving and that's what I'm doing." Then he pulled a package of Oreos out of the cabinet along with a jar of peanut butter and asked, "Want some?"

"Sure," his son said, and began to make some Oreos with peanut butter, though he was thinking all the while about Operation Turkey and wondering if Alina had come up with a plan yet.

At 4:30 Alina PM'd him on his Nook HD, and Henry found out she thought it a good idea to plan to release the turkeys early on Wednesday morning, like before dawn, and they should all meet on Mifflin Street around 5:30 in the morning.

**Swanfireboy:** _What about Regina?_

**RumbelleGirl: **_You'll have to get her there with you somehow. Get her to ask Snow and David to let her come over your house tonight. _

**Swanfireboy: **_Okay, and after that's done, I think I can get her over there by . . . umm . . . bringing her along in the Radio Flyer. I can tie it to my bike and pull her along with me. _

**RumbelleGirl: **_Or you could enchant that horse pendant Papa gave you and ride it over._

**Swanfireboy: **_I'm not as good at enchanting things as you are. It's quicker to just ride my bike and pull Regina along in the wagon. It's a good thing the wagon and the bike are in the garage here and I can get them out through the side door. 'Cause somebody might hear if I had to open the doors up._

**RumbelleGirl: **_Yeah, and you call Grace and tell her about where and when to meet up, and I'll call Eva, Nick, and Hans. Agent Gold out._

**Swanfireboy:** _Okay. See ya soon! Operation Save the Turkey has begun! Agent Swan out._

Henry quickly erased his browsing history and then plugged in his Nook to charge it. Then he went into his room and used his walkie talkie to contact Grace and then called Regina on his cell and told her to ask her parents if she could go over Emma's house and spend the night. "Tell them you wanna make a Thanksgiving surprise with me," Henry told her.

"Okay, Henry," she said, and then he heard her yelling at Snow, "Mommy, I wanna go over Emma's tonight and make a Thanksgiving surprise gift with Henry. Can I? Can I? Please?"

Henry waited with bated breath for Snow's response. "Well, okay . . . if it's okay with Emma and Bae. Let me talk to Henry, Regina."

"Okay," Regina handed Snow the cordless phone.

"Hello, Henry? It's Gran."

"Hi. Did Regina tell you what we want to do?" Henry asked.

"Yes, and she can stay over as long as it's okay with your dad or mom."

"I'll let you ask Dad, since he's home," Henry said, then called Bae over to talk to Snow.

"Sure, that's fine, Snow. You can bring her by anytime you want and I'll call Emma and tell her," Bae said, thinking this would be a very unusual evening.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Snow arrived with Regina around five o'clock, just before Emma came home. "She insisted on bringing her Pocahontas costume," Snow told Bae. "So don't be surprised if she wants to wear it tonight at some point. Or her turkey mask she made with David yesterday." Snow indicated the little bag with Regina's costume and the paper plate mask with colorful feathers on it she had colored after David had drawn a turkey's face on it and cut out the eyeholes.

Bae just nodded as the little girl ran shrieking into the elevator. "Henry! Lookit what I brought!"

"Hey, Regina," he called, and then sprinted after her, before she managed to close the elevator without him inside it. "See you tomorrow, Snow! I'll bring her back after my afternoon class. Have fun with David tonight." He darted inside with Regina's bag on his shoulder just as the little girl tried to push the button and close the doors. "Hold on there," he ordered. "Don't be trying to touch the elevator without me or Emma or Henry in here with you. Okay?" He quickly pushed the button to make the elevator go to the top floor of his dojo, where the apartment was.

Regina nodded. "Okay, Bae."

Once they were inside the apartment, Regina tore across the living room and hugged Henry. "Henry, lookit my cool mask! An' I brought my Pocahontas costume . . . 'cause she was an Indian princess and she saved John Smith and the turkeys too!"

Henry grinned and knelt down to see the bag with her mask and costume. "That's really neat, Regina. You can wear it and show my mom when she comes home."

"And your mom ought to be home in about an hour, so I'm going to start supper," Bae said. "Why don't you and Regina set the table, Henry?"

"Okay. What are we having?" Henry asked as he got out the dishes.

Bae thought a moment. "Uh . . . how about fettuccini Alfredo and chicken fingers? And some green beans with fried onions?"

"Yeah, that's good," Henry said. "Here, Regina. You put the napkins by everybody's place."

After they were done setting the table, Henry took Regina into his room and had her play with his mythical resin figures until Emma came home.

"When we gonna save the turkeys, Henry?" she asked.

"Shh! You gotta be quiet about that, okay?" he hissed. "It's a secret, so zip your lips."

Regina nodded, and made a zipping motion with her hand to her mouth.

"I'll tell you later when it's time to save the turkeys," he said, knowing he wouldn't say anything until it was time to leave for Fox's farm. "Now, what are we going to make for a Thanksgiving surprise?" he wondered, then he snapped his fingers. "Got it! We're gonna make dried bean and pumpkin seed necklaces."

"We are?" Regina said, sounding awed.

"Yeah. Like the . . . uh . . . Indians wore," Henry improvised, figuring the Indians might have worn something like that.

"When we makin' them?" Regina asked eagerly.

"Uh . . . after dinner," her nephew replied. "Let's go in the living room. I think I just heard my mom come home."

"Emma! Emma!" Regina yelled as soon as her big sister came through the door. She raced over to her sheriff sister and hugged her around the knees. "I's stayin' here tonight an' Henry and I are makin' Thanksgiving necklaces . . . oops, that was s'posed to be a surprise."

"Hey, chatterbox!" Emma smiled at her and hugged her. "Don't worry, I'll pretend I didn't hear that. Right, Bae?"

"What?" he called from the kitchen, where he was mixing the fettuccini with the Alfredo sauce.

"See, it's still a surprise, kid," Emma said. "Now let me put my jacket away and stuff."

Regina watched as Emma hung her red jacket in the closet along with the holster with her gun and shut the door. She put a set of new handcuffs on the small shelf on the wall above a little hassock beside the entertainment center. Then she went into the kitchen to say hello to her husband and give him a kiss. "Mmm! That smells great, hon," she murmured after she'd hugged him from behind.

"Hey, beautiful. You know, I spent all day slaving in this kitchen to make this," he joked, his brown eyes twinkling.

"Dad, you're such a liar," Henry snickered impudently. "He spent like an hour, Mom."

Emma picked up the plate of chicken fingers. "Who cares, kid? I'm starving."

"Me too!" Regina sang, and climbed up on her chair, which had a special booster seat on it so she could reach the table. "Mmm! Chicken nuggets an' pasta. Yummy!"

Emma carefully cut up the little girl's food, giving her some of everything, including the green beans. "Here you go, Regina." She set the plate down in front of the toddler.

"Emma, I don't like green beans," Regina stated.

"You eat them, I know Mom makes them," her sister said firmly. "Four bites, imp. Or else no dessert."

Regina pouted. Then she went and ate some of her chicken.

After about ten minutes, Emma looked over at Regina's plate and said, "Regina, eat your green beans."

"But _Emma_!" Regina whined.

"Hey, you listen to your sister," Bae told her, frowning.

"But I don't like veggies, Bae," the child protested.

"They help you grow up big and strong and . . . uh . . . pretty too," he added when he realized that such attributes might not appeal to a little girl like Regina. He pointed to Emma. "That's why your sister's so tall and beautiful. 'Cause she eats her veggies."

Regina looked at Emma, who promptly ate some green beans. Then she looked at Bae and Henry, who were also eating them. "What we havin' for dessert, Emma?"

"Uh . . . what _are_ we having?" Emma asked Bae.

"Ice cream," Bae answered, since he knew they had some in the freezer. Then he added, "So if you want some turtle sundae, you'd better eat four bites of your green beans, Regina."

"And after that we can make our Thanksgiving surprises," Henry added encouragingly.

Regina stared mutinously at her plate, her arms crossed.

"Or you can skip dessert, skip making your surprise, and go to bed early," Emma threatened. "Your choice, kid."

Regina stared at her sister. Then, seeing the hard gleam in Emma's blue eyes, she turned and looked at Bae pleadingly.

The martial arts instructor shook his head. "Don't look at me like that. Eat four bites and you're done. Or else you can sit here until you do."

Regina huffed, realizing that she wasn't going to get her way. She reluctantly put a green bean in her mouth and swallowed it.

Emma whispered to Bae, "Huh. It worked. For a minute there, I didn't think it would."

Bae smirked behind his hand. "And I can't believe I just said that. That's what _my_ mother used to tell me when I was her age. It's one of the few things I remember about her."

"Hey, whatever works," Emma said, noting that now Regina had eaten three more bites of her vegetables. "Good job! Now finish your chicken and pasta and you can have some ice cream after you make your surprise."

Regina clapped her hands and then ate the rest of her dinner.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Emma helped Regina string the dried pumpkin seeds and dried navy beans on some string for necklaces after dinner, along with Henry and Bae, who also added dried cranberries to his necklace.

Regina saw and cried, "I want that necklace, Bae!"

"You do, huh? What kind of deal will you make me for it?" he bargained.

"Uh . . . I'll give you these!" she said, then she hopped off her chair and ran into Henry's room, where her bag was, and got out three small Reeses shaped like turkeys and brought them back to him. "Here! You eat these, Bae, an' trade me the necklace."

His eyes lit up when he saw the candy. "Reeses turkeys!"

Emma chuckled. "Boy, she knows you real well!"

"Okay, chatterbox. You've got a deal," Bae told Regina, and promptly traded his dried cranberry, bean, and pumpkin seed necklace for her candy.

Regina draped the necklace about her neck and said happily, "Ooh! It's bee-you-tee-ful!" Then she scurried back into Henry's room again to put on her turkey mask.

Emerging with it on her face, she began to prance around the kitchen, holding her arms to her sides like wings and singing a little song Snow had taught her. "Mr. Turkey's tail is wide," she shook her rear end. "He waddles when he walks," and then she waddled about. "His neck is long," she stretched her neck out and waddled some more. "His chin is red," she bobbed her head up and down and pointed to her chin. "And this is how he talks—gobble gobble gobble!"

Bae started laughing. "God, that's too cute!" He promptly took a picture of her with his phone.

Emma clapped and said, "You're a trip, kid!"

Henry smiled and said, "Hey, Regina. Do you know this song?" He began to sing another popular Thanksgiving song to the tune of "Row Row Your Boat", that he had learned from the child waddling and gobbling before him, ironically. "The Pilgrims sailed away, far across the sea. They came to America, where they could be free. The Indians helped them plant some corn, then they shared a great big feast. Thanksgiving Day was born!"

Regina clapped and then sang the song again with Henry. Then she spun around and pointed to Emma and Bae, removing her mask. "Now we's gonna have a sing-a-long!"

"Oh, no!" Bae held up his hands. "I don't sing."

"Not unless he has to pay a forfeit," Emma reminded him slyly, referring to the night of Belle and Rumple's Halloween party, when he'd had to sing the Oscar Meyer commercial.

"Yes! We's singing the itsy bitsy spider!" Regina declared. "The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout!" She made climbing motions with her hands, then she looked at Henry.

"Down came the rain and washed the spider out," the boy sang, and then made swishing motions with his hands. "C'mon, Mom! You know this song."

Emma, who could recall watching other girls sing that song when she lived at one of her foster homes, and wishing they'd invite her to sing, gamely joined in. "Up came the sun and dried up all the rain . . ." she made a circle with her hands, praying she remembered it right. Then she jerked her head at Bae. "Okay, Gold. Your turn. Or don't you know this song?"

"I know it," he said. "But I don't sing, Emma, you know that."

"You sing in the shower, Dad," Henry pointed out.

Bae flushed, and gave his son a sharp look. "Thanks a lot, tiger."

Regina ran and grabbed Bae around the knees, giving the martial arts instructor her biggest widest set of puppy dog eyes. "_Please_, Bae! Sing!"

"Aww, Regina!" he groaned, wavering in the face of that potent weapon.

"Pretty please!" she added a smile to the eyes.

That was the deathblow.

He shook his head. "Fine! You twisted my arm, you little imp. Uh, where were we?"

Regina sang the previous line. "Up came the sun an' dried up all the rain!"

Bae cleared his throat and then sang quickly, "Then the itsy bitsy spider went up the spout again."

"Yay!" Regina clapped and looked like he'd given her a million dollars. "Now let's sing Bingo!"

Bae rolled his eyes. "God help me!" he muttered.

But he found he couldn't refuse Regina when she gave him those eyes, and so he joined his wife, son, and small sister-in-law in singing the popular tune, and soon Regina had all three of them clapping and singing along with her.

After Bingo was over, Bae declared it was time for ice cream, and they all had some, with Henry and Regina having small sugar cones and Emma had hers with chocolate sauce and Bae with whipped cream on top with a cherry.

Then Emma helped Regina into her Belle nightgown while Henry and Bae finished the necklaces and put them in Regina's bag along with her turkey mask.

"Let's see what's on TV, tiger," Bae said, grabbing the remote. "There ought to be some kind of Thanksgiving special on we can watch with Regina so she conks out."

He flipped through the channels, at last finding a Charlie Brown Thanksgiving on Cartoon Network. He settled down on their brown sofa, with Henry on one side, and Emma came out with Regina a few minutes later and sat down next to him with her sister on her lap.

Regina snuggled into Emma as they watched the Peanuts gang try and make Thanksgiving dinner, and Emma smiled down at her and stroked her dark hair, marveling at how different the toddler Regina was from the former Evil Queen. She actually enjoyed the feel of the child in her arms, it awoke in her a sudden longing and nostalgia for a baby of her own, and she found herself cuddling close with her sister and rocking her a little.

This was how it should be, she thought. _And it's what I used to want when I was her age. _For an instant she allowed herself to imagine holding her own little girl like this, and her eyes grew dreamy as she curled up against her husband and rested her chin on top of Regina's dark head.

She had almost nodded off watching Snoopy on top of his doghouse when her pager went off. "Damn!" she murmured, knowing no one ever paged her unless it was an emergency. She carefully transferred Regina to Bae's lap and went to see who had paged her.

Upon seeing the number, she dialed it on her cell. It was the bartender at the Rabbit Hole, calling to report an altercation that had gotten out of hand and would she come to break it up and put the inebriated parties in the slammer for the night. "Great! Just great!" she sighed. So much for her night of family time.

"What's up, wild swan?" Bae asked.

"I've got to take this call, Bae. Some idiots are causing trouble down at the Rabbit Hole," Emma told him. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Where you goin' Emma?" called Regina.

"I have to go take care of some stupid people," she replied, grabbing her jacket and holster from the closet.

"You gonna under arrest them?" Regina asked.

"Yeah, probably. Now you behave for Bae and Henry, okay?"

"Uh huh. Bye, Emma!" Regina waved at her as she left.

As they watched the rest of the Thanksgiving special, Bae pointed out gently that Charlie Brown was eating turkey like everyone else did on Thanksgiving, hoping to get Regina to abandon her turkey crusade.

But as soon as he mentioned eating turkey, Regina squirmed free of his lap and shouted, "No, Bae! Eating turkey's bad! And we's not having it!"

"Hey, Little Miss Big Mouth," Bae scolded. "Don't shout at me like that. Just because you don't like eating turkey doesn't mean we all have to not eat it."

Regina shook her head. "I's not killing turkeys!" Then she ran inside Henry's room, crying.

"Aww hell!" Bae sighed. "Henry, maybe you better go talk to her. I doubt if she wants to see me right now." He rubbed his eyes. "I'm going to get changed while you do that."

Henry hopped off the couch to soothe the upset toddler while Bae went to get into his pajamas.

Peering out of his bedroom, Bae heard Henry still talking to Regina and decided to lie down and read a bit of a new book he'd bought. He'd only read a few pages when his eyes started to close and before he knew it, he was asleep, the book falling across his face.

Meanwhile, Henry had decided to read a bedtime story to Regina, and found one of her Disney books in her bag that Snow had packed. He read her the story of Rapunzel, the two of them curled up on the couch together.

By the time they had reached the end, Henry was nodding off.

Not so Regina. She was still wide awake, and not minded to sit still on the couch and wait for Emma to come home. A commercial came on advertising an oven bag to cook the perfect Thanksgiving turkey and Regina sprang off the couch and glared at the TV in disgust.

She trotted into the kitchen, but finding nothing to do in there, went back into the living room. Henry had fallen asleep by then, and she was bored, so she looked around for something to do.

The walnut coffee table only held some of Bae's martial arts magazines and an empty coffee cup of Emma's. A blue fuzzy wool blanket was thrown over the arm of the sofa, and Regina picked it up and pulled it over Henry, like her daddy did to her when she was sleeping. Little did she know the blanket was the same one Rumple had made for Bae when he was small, and had given to Henry months ago in his shop.

Finding nothing of interest there or on the walnut endtables, Regina walked over to the entertainment center and looked at it. There was plenty of interesting stuff on it, like books and a statue of a jade horse and other curious collectibles, but she couldn't reach any of them.

She moved over to the left and saw the small shelf where Emma had placed her new handcuffs. They were still there, as Emma had left in a hurry and not bothered to put them in her pocket.

Regina grinned and climbed up on the little footstool and took the handcuffs down. The key dangled from one, and she carried them into the hallway, at first thinking to play police officer with Sofia in Henry's room.

Then she heard the sound of soft snoring from Emma's bedroom, and pushed open the door.

Bae was still lying on the bed, snoozing with the book over his face.

Regina cocked her head at him. She recalled suddenly what he had said about eating turkey. Then she got a very naughty idea, and smirking, approached the sleeping martial arts instructor.

**Page~*~*~*~Break**

Bae woke up upon hearing a little voice yelling shrilly, "You is under arrested, Bae! Hands behind you back!"

Baelfire jerked awake like a shot. "Regina! What in hell?" He went to sit up, the book falling off his face and onto the floor with a thump. _Huh? I must have fallen asleep for a little bit. God, I can't believe I did that,_ he thought in chagrin. He started to sit up, thankful that Regina wasn't causing any mischief, and found that his right hand was . . . wearing a handcuff.

"Regina!" he snapped, horrified. "What did you do?"

_She had handcuffed him to the bed._ He tugged futilely at his wrist, which was chained to his bedpost.

"I under arrested you!" she declared gleefully.

Bae turned and scowled at her. "Okay, now that's enough. Give me the keys and take these off."

"Nuh uh. You has the right to remain silent—"

"Never mind my right to remain silent!" he snapped. "You give me those keys right now, Regina Nolan, and let me out of here!" He couldn't believe this was happening! Handcuffed to his own bed by a three-year-old!

"No! You is under arrested, Baelfire!" Regina cried, shaking a finger at him.

"Oh, yeah? What for?"

"For bein' a turkey murder!"

"A what? A _turkey murderer?_ You've got to be kidding!" He tugged harder, but it was no use. He was caught fast. "Where's the keys, Regina?"

She patted her pocket. "They's in here. And you ain't getting' them."

"Now you listen to me, you little—" he began angrily. He had to get free before Emma came home and saw.

"Bae? What's going on in here?" Emma came into the room, and stopped dead when she saw her little sister standing before her bed . . . and her husband handcuffed to it.

"Nothing!" Bae said swiftly. "We're . . . uh . . . playing a game!"

"Gee, hon. I thought we weren't going to play that game with kids around," Emma teased wickedly.

Bae flushed. "Emma! Just get her to give you the keys."

Emma turned to Regina, unable to resist chuckling at her husband's obvious embarrassment. "Okay, imp. Where's the keys?"

"But Emma! Bae's under arrested! I gots to lock him up, so's the turkeys are safe," Regina argued.

Bae rolled his eyes. "Yeah, the turkeys are in real danger, Emma."

"Kid, give me the keys. Playtime's over and it's time for bed," Emma said.

"Aww! Emma!" Regina groaned. "I'm not sleepy!"

"How about I make you a deal, kid? I let you stay up for ten more minutes if you give me the keys so I can let Bae out?"

"Umm . . . sure!" Regina agreed, then she reached into her pants pocket for the keys she had put there. She felt around slowly. "Uh oh!"

"What do you mean, uh oh?" Bae called, wriggling his hand.

"Uh oh, they ain't there," Regina replied.

"Regina, what do you mean they're not there?" Emma asked, frowning.

"They's gone, Emma!" her sister announced. Then she tugged her pocket inside out. "See?"

Emma knelt to see . . . and then she smacked a hand to her head. "Oh no!"

"What?" Bae demanded.

"The keys . . . fell out of her pocket . . . because it has a hole in it," his wife moaned.

"You mean . . . they're lost?" he gasped.

"Uh . . well . . . I guess so," Emma said lamely.

"Jesus H. Christ, Emma!" Bae growled. "Then find them! They've got to be somewhere in the apartment."

"Come on, Regina. Where were you with my handcuffs?" Emma asked, trying to retrace the toddler's steps and hopefully find the keys that way. She took the little mischief-maker's hand and led her from the room after searching the floor before the bed.

Bae glared at the open door and then lay back on the bed with a muttered swear word. This was unbelievable! Handcuffed to his bed like some kind of criminal or something . . . and now the keys were lost and he was stuck like this until they were found.

Five minutes passed and he could hear Emma asking Regina where she'd been again. He tapped a foot against his mattress impatiently. "Hey, Emma! You find them yet?"

"Sorry! They're . . . umm . . . missing in action," she called back.

"Great!" he nearly slammed his other hand down on the mattress in frustration. "Look, if you can't find them in another five minutes, just . . . bring me the lockpicks in my jacket pocket, okay? I can jimmy them open in a minute or two."

There was silence after that request. Bae felt his stomach do a flipflop. "Emma? Did you hear what I said?"

"Yeah, I heard," Emma answered, coming to stand in the doorway. Her lips twitched at the sight. On impulse, she pulled out her phone and snapped a picture.

"Hey! Quit taking pictures and find those keys!" Bae lectured. "This is so embarrassing."

"I think you look adorable. In a kinky sort of way," she teased.

"Okay, wild swan. Now please bring me my picks so I can spring myself?"

"Uh . . . that's going to be a problem, Bae."

"What problem? They're in my jacket."

"You don't understand. Those are my new handcuffs. The latest model."

"So? I can still pick 'em."

"No you can't. They're maglocked, Bae. And only the mag key can open them," she told him.

"You're not serious!" he yelped, and half-twisted himself about to look at the silver manacle on his right wrist.

Sure enough, the bracelet around his wrist looked like an unbroken circle, without any kind of opening for a key except a square hole in the knob below it, where the chain was attached.

"Oh, Bae. I'm sorry. I should have made sure she couldn't get them," Emma said.

"Emma, you _have_ to find those keys. I can't stay here like this all night, I don't care what wicked fantasy I remind you of!" Bae said exasperatedly.

"Okay, okay. Let me keep looking. Maybe I ought to wake up Henry, let him look too," she said quietly.

"Fine, just get me out of here!"

So Emma shook awake Henry and together with Regina they searched the apartment for the mag keys.

After five more minutes, Emma returned.

"Any luck?" Bae asked.

"Nope. Bae . . . what if we never find the keys? God knows if they've rolled somewhere or something . . . like beneath the entertainment system. I think we might have to . . . err . . . call someone for help. Like your papa."

"No!" Bae yelped in horror. "You can't do that to me, Emma! You leave my papa out of this. I don't need him coming over here and . . . and seeing me like this."

"But . . . he can just magic them open . . ."

"No! You can't call him. I'll never hear the end of it. And no telling Snow or my mama either. You women will joke about this forever!"

"Then who am I gonna call? Ghostbusters?" Emma snapped. "A locksmith?"

"Why don't _you_ try and magic them open, Emma?"

"What do you think I am, Houdini?" Emma groaned.

"I don't care if you call yourself Morgan le Faye, just . . . get me out of them."

"Okay, relax. Uh . . . let me see," Emma came and took his wrist in her hand, examining the cuff and then concentrating. But it was no good. The cuff remained closed. She tried again, but the cuff remained stubbornly closed. "Dammit!" She frowned at her husband. "How'd she get those on you anyway?"

"Err . . . well . . . I kind of . . . fell asleep reading this book while Henry went to talk to her," Bae admitted. "She got upset because I told her I wanted to eat turkey on Thanksgiving, so . . . she arrested me."

"You fell asleep watching her?" Emma gasped. "Good God, Baelfire! Maybe you _should_ be locked up."

"Emma! Give me a break! It wasn't like I planned it. It just happened. Please, look again. They have to be here somewhere."

"Bae, I've looked all over . . ."

"Try again," he urged.

She turned and walked out, leaving Bae alone.

He shifted about, trying to ease the pressure on his arm. As the minutes ticked by with no results, Bae began to despair. The silvery cuff seemed to mock him, and he almost heard his papa's voice saying, "You can't turn your back on Regina for an instant, dearie. She's like the ocean, she can get into something in nothing flat."

He winced imagining how Rumple would be hysterical over this . . . and so would David.

Suddenly he heard Henry call, "Hey, Dad! I found them!"

"Thank you God!" Bae nearly fell off the bed in relief.

Henry came into the room, grinning from ear to ear. "Wow, Dad! You look like a hostage or something," he carried the keys in one hand.

"Never mind that, tiger. Can you take them off?"

"Uh huh," Henry said, coming over with the mag key.

As he tried to unlock the cuffs, Bae asked, "Where'd you find them?"

"Uh . . . I summoned them," Henry replied.

Bae snorted. "I should have known."

Henry fiddled with the mag lock a bit longer before the silvery cuff suddenly sprang open.

"Ah, free at last! Thanks, Henry."

"Anytime, Dad."

Baelfire sat up. "Where's Regina?"

"Uh . . . with Mom, I think. Mom was . . . err . . scolding her pretty good . . ."

Bae raised an eyebrow. "She needs more than that for touching stuff that doesn't belong to her." He rose and walked out of the bedroom, calling, "Regina, come here. I think we need to have a little talk about you touching Emma's things and using them."

Henry winced slightly as he heard Regina sniffling, Bae scolding, and then Regina bawling because he made her stand in the corner. Then he giggled when he recalled what his father had looked like handcuffed to the bed. Alina would be rolling on the floor when she heard about it.

When the young magician went down the hall and looked into the living room, he saw Bae sitting on the couch, holding a rather contrite little girl on his lap and saying quietly, " . . . you won't do that again, will you?"

Regina shook her head. "No. I sorry, Bae."

"Okay, forgiven," he said, and then he said, "Let's go find your sister and she can help tuck you in. Emma? Where'd you go?"

"In here," Emma said, coming out of Henry's room. "I was just putting some sheets down on his Futon for her."

Bae carried Regina into the bedroom, and Henry relaxed a little, thinking it was lucky his dad didn't have much of a temper, or else the little imp could have been in serious trouble.

He waited until his parents had come out of his room before he came up to Emma and handed her the cuffs and the key. "Here, Mom."

"Thanks, Henry. I'd better put these somewhere little hands can't find them. Like in my car," Emma said ruefully, and then she took the cuffs and stuffed them in her jacket, thinking she had a really interesting picture to put on a Christmas card and give to certain people this holiday season. Oh, well. There was never a dull moment with Regina around, that was for sure!

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

In another part of Storybrooke, someone else was having difficulty sleeping as well.

Rumple was working late in his study doing some last minute accounting when he saw Belle go past the study door.

"Something the matter, dearie?" he called, since he thought she was sound asleep by now. At least she had been when he'd left the room two hours ago. "Do you need anything, Belle? Are you sick?"

Worried, he came out into the hall to see what was bothering her. He knew that this late in the pregnancy, women often had difficulty sleeping, so maybe she wanted some tea or something.

"Belle?"

He saw her walking down the hall, her chestnut hair trailing down her back like a sleek curtain, accenting the white nightgown with pink rosebuds she wore. Her feet were bare and . . . his eyes widened in disbelief . . . she was _gliding_ about four inches off the carpet!

He rubbed his eyes. Surely he was imagining things. Belle couldn't be gliding through the air.

"Belle? Where are you going, dearie?" he called softly.

When she didn't reply he ran over to her and took her by the arm. "Belle, sweetheart, why don't you answer me?" _And why don't you quit walking on air?_

But when he looked into her face, he saw that her eyes were open but unseeing.

She was sleepwalking.

"Come on, dearie. Let's get you back to bed," he murmured, and gently steered her around and towards the bedroom again, thinking that this was one strange symptom of pregnancy. He gazed down at her feet . . . and hissed in shock, for not only was she still gliding, but her feet were sparkling with . . . fairy dust.

"Belle? What's happening to you?" he cried in alarm.

Just then she settled to the ground . . . and the dust vanished.

"Maybe I'm hallucinating," he groaned, and continued to lead his wife back to bed.

He managed to get her into bed again, gently tucking her in. Then he bent to kiss her goodnight, and she blinked and started babbling, "I have to find the dwarves . . . we need to mine more dust . . . and I need to plant some more nightblooming jasmine . . ."

"Dearie, it's the middle of the night," Rumple said softly. "You're dreaming. Now go back to sleep, Belle. Shh!"

"Rumple? I need some honey and nectar to drink," she muttered.

"Yes, I'll get you some tomorrow," he soothed. "Now just relax." He stroked her hair and held her hand until she quit muttering about needing to grant some child's wish or whatever it was and drifted back to sleep again.

Then he patted her hand and whispered, "There's something very odd going on here, dearie. I don't know what it is, but maybe we need to talk to Dr. Jo about it," he said, naming Belle's OBGYN, a kind and knowledgeable woman physician. "And maybe we need to discuss a few things too." He gently rubbed her belly and said softly, "Now you two go to sleep, so your mama can rest."

He hated to think it, but he had a funny feeling there was something Belle wasn't telling him. And whatever it was had to do with these strange symptoms she'd been having lately.

Tucking the covers about her, Rumple left Belle slumbering and went to turn off his computer. He was tired and going to get some sleep. Tomorrow he would talk with Belle and hopefully she could shed some light on these odd happenings, because the only thing he could think of was that she was possessed by fairies.

**Rumple's Recipe Corner:**

**Bae's Cranberry-Orange Relish**

1 navel orange

1 (12-oz) bag fresh cranberries

1/2 cup sugar

1/8 teaspoon cinnamon

Finely grate 2 teaspoons zest from orange. Cut away and discard peel and pith from orange, then cut sections free from membranes.

Pulse cranberries with zest, orange sections, sugar, and cinnamon in a food processor until finely chopped. Chill, covered, at least 2 hours to allow flavors to develop.

Relish can be chilled up to 3 days.


	4. Operation Save the Turkey

**4**

**Operation Save the Turkey**

Henry set his alarm on his Nook to go off around 4:30 AM. When it beeped in his ear, as he'd put the Nook underneath his pillow, he woke up and got dressed, putting on his jeans and a long-sleeved thermal pullover as the nights and early mornings were freezing now. He tucked his buckskin horse amulet beneath the pullover for luck. He also put on his boots that he'd gotten from Rumple, and Bae's shawl, putting it on around his neck, and leaving some to pull up over his head like a hood. He got gloves out of the bottom drawer and put them in the pocket of his pullover.

Then he went to wake up Regina.

Luckily the little girl woke up as soon as he shook her and whispered, "Regina! It's time to save the turkeys!" in her ear.

He got her to go potty and then went to help her get dressed. She insisted upon wearing her Pocahontas costume over her clothes, saying they were the proper clothes to save turkeys in.

Henry didn't bother to argue, just helped her put on the costume. Then she dragged out a bag where she had some Indian headbands and stated that everyone saving the turkeys had to wear one.

Henry just sighed and said they could talk about that later, but now they had to be really quiet and sneak out of the apartment and into the elevator. He grabbed his backpack, which contained his other walkie talkie, his Nook, and the Once Upon A Time book, and slung it over his shoulder.

They tiptoed down the hallway and across the living room floor. Then Henry opened the door while Regina slipped out with the bag of Indian headbands. He grabbed his house keys from his jacket and carefully locked the door behind them, and then led Regina out and into the elevator.

In about five minutes he'd gotten his bike and the Radio Flyer out of the garage and tied the wagon to the back of his bike. "Okay, Regina. Get on in the wagon and we're going to meet Alina and the rest of the secret agents and save the turkeys." He picked up the child and put her in the wagon, hopped on his bike, and pedaled off down the street, heading over to what used to be his old house.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Henry rode up on his bike with Regina in the wagon and found Hans, Grace, the Zimmermans, and Alina already gathered at the end of Mifflin Street on their own bikes. He heard Grace discussing what she and Alice had already made for Thanksgiving, telling Alina she had made something called Indian pudding for dessert. Everyone was dressed in warm clothing and Hans carried something that looked like a shepherd's crook in one hand.

"What's that for?" Henry hissed as he rode up.

"For herding the turkeys, of course," Hans said, like it were obvious. "You don't think those silly birds are just gonna walk right out the gate do you? They gotta be herded, same as you do with goats or pigs."

Henry hadn't thought about that, since he wasn't used to interacting with livestock. "Oh. Okay. Is everyone ready to liberate the turkeys?"

Everyone nodded and Regina cried, "Yeah! Let's go save 'em!" Then she went and handed Henry a headband. "Here, Henry. You all gots to wear these so's you look like Indians, 'cause Indians save turkeys."

"We've got to what?" Hans stared at the child.

"Just humor her," Alina said, taking a headband and putting it on.

"And who are you?" asked Eva softly.

"I's Pocahontas, the Indian princess," Regina told her proudly.

"Sure she is," Hans snorted, taking a headband. "First she's the mayor, now she's a princess. She's always got to be the boss."

Nick chuckled and nodded, also putting one on. "Only she's funnier now than she used to be. I was always afraid of her before."

"Me too," Grace said, and took one also. "Okay, now what, Alina?"

"Now we have to plan how we're going to get the turkeys out without Mr. Fox or Ash hearing," said Belle's daughter. "And how we can get them to the convent before they all get run over." She pulled out a map from her backpack and a purple Sharpie marker. "Okay . . . so here's Fox's farm. Here's where the turkeys are, in this building here," she indicated a square building just behind the mansion.

"How do you know that?" asked Nick.

"Because I went over there with Mayor Nolan when he went to reserve a turkey for our Thanksgiving dinner," she replied.

"Alina, we aint't havin' turkey for Thanksgiving!" Regina stated.

"Yeah, I know, imp. But anyway, that's how I know where the turkeys are," Alina explained.

"And 'cause she's got a photographic memory like her papa," Henry added.

"I wish I did," groaned Hans. "I've got a memory like a sieve."

"That's 'cause you don't concentrate," Eva said. "You memorize sports stuff all right."

"Well, I _like_ sports," said Hans defensively. "School's boring."

"If you pay more attention, you'll get out of school faster," Alina pointed out. "So . . . here's where we start . . . and here's where we have to go," she indicated the convent at the north end of Storybrooke. "Now, what's the best way to get the turkeys there?"

The children bent over the map, studying it and offering suggestions. Finally, Eva said, "I think the best way would be through here, we can use part of the woods for cover, but then we'll have to take them down Main Street a ways."

She traced a route with her finger.

"Yeah, that looks good," said her twin.

Hans nodded. "Yup. And maybe we can say we're giving a turkey parade if anybody asks?"

"Good idea, Hans. Okay, so the route's planned," Alina said. "Now, who knows how to herd turkeys?"

"Well, I ain't never herded turkeys, but I've herded goats and pigs plenty back when we lived in the Enchanted Forest, me and my dad and mom and my older sister," Hans said.

"I can herd geese," Grace said softly. "My papa taught me, we used to have a flock of them and gather their feathers to stuff pillows and mattresses and . . . uh . . . eat their eggs and . . . um . . . you know . . ." she glanced pointedly at Regina.

"Yeah, we know," Henry nodded.

"Hey, you know the turkeys might just follow a trail of corn . . . sort of like breadcrumbs," Eva said.

"Yeah, turkeys like to eat corn," Nick nodded. "Uh, can one of you enchant the corn, make it so once they eat it they _have_ to follow it to the convent?" He looked questioningly at Henry and Alina.

"Yeah, I could do that," Alina said. "But where do we get the corn from?"

"Fox is bound to have some at the farm to feed the turkeys," Henry said. "And Eva and Nick can sprinkle it for the turkeys to follow on their bikes."

"All right, so you and Hans, Grace, can herd turkeys once we get them out of the barn or whatever," Alina said. "Henry and I will cover you with our magic . . . make sure nobody can really see what we're doing while we get them off the farm."

"I can open the door too," Henry said. "Grandpa taught me an unlocking spell a few weeks ago . . . after I locked myself out of your house, Alina, when I went outside to get the mail and the door shut and Grammy didn't hear me banging 'cause she was resting."

"That was the time I was helping Papa at his shop, right?" Alina whispered.

"Yeah, so then he taught me that spell, just in case," Henry said. He felt slightly guilty using his magic like that, which was not how Rumple had intended for him to use it . . . but what choice did he have? The turkeys were sure to be locked up, just in case animals came around.

"So, if everyone knows what to do," Alina said, "Then let Operation Save the Turkey get started!"

"What about me, Alina?" a little voice suddenly cried. "What can I do?"

"Uh . . . you can be look out, Regina," said Henry quickly. "And . . . uh . . . direct us all."

"Okay!" Regina looked happy now that she had an important part in the rescue effort.

Then they all got on their bikes and headed over to Fox's Fowl Farm, reminding Henry of the way Elliot and his friends had all gone to help ET return to his spaceship in the movie.

The dawn was a hazy gray shroud over the landscape as they rode, wreathing the lawns and the houses in a kind of mist. The light was still rosy and kind of grainy, making the trees and yards seem sort of indistinct, like he was looking at them through a glass darkly. Some birds had begun to sing softly as the sun rose, but for the most part the town was silent as most of their residents were still asleep in their beds.

The only sounds were the rustling of leaves, the soft whisper of the wind through the trees, and the noise their wheels made on the pavement and the squeak of the wagon as Henry pedaled down the street with Regina behind him.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

They arrived at 108 Mifflin Street at a quarter to six, according to Alina's watch, and she had the Zimmermans wait at the entrance to the farm, ready to start sprinkling the corn which Hans would bring to them before they released the turkeys. They all parked their bikes there too, and Henry had Regina stay with them in the wagon.

"You watch the house, okay, and tell Eva or Nick if you see anything," Henry said. "And Alina, Hans, Grace, and I will get the turkeys."

"I spy with my little eye," Regina recited eagerly.

"Yeah, like that, kid," Hans said to her. "Okay, let's get this party started."

They headed up the driveway and Alina led them around the back to where the turkey barn was.

It was a large rectangular building made of gray siding and had a very large mesh gate around it, that was locked with a padlock. Inside the gate were several troughs of stainless steel, which they assumed were for food and water.

"Okay, Henry. Do your spell," Alina hissed.

Henry went and cupped the padlock in his hands. First he relaxed his mind, like Rumple had taught him, and felt the power of the magic flow through him. Then he directed it, infusing the power with his will. _I need you to open. Open now! Open!_ He focused on how much he wanted the lock to open . . . and a blue light shot from his hands, wrapped around the lock . . . and the lock sprang open.

"I did it!" he crowed, then he rubbed his head, as he felt slightly dizzy.

"What's wrong, Henry?" asked Grace in alarm.

"Magic's price," Alina explained.

"Yeah. All magic comes with a price . . . and using it like this makes me a little dizzy and tired," Henry said.

"You okay? You're not gonna . . . pass out or something are you, Gold?" asked Hans.

"No. I'll be fine," Henry reassured him. Then he put the padlock on the ground and tugged open the gate to the yard. "Let's go!"

They ran across the yard and to the barn, which Henry also unlocked, and when they opened the doors, were met with a blast of heat, as the barn was much warmer than the yard with its chill autumn wind.

As they stepped inside, lights flickered on and revealed a long low anteroom filled with bags of turkey feed. At the end was a door.

"Hans, can you get the feed?" Henry asked.

The tall boy nodded and hefted a medium-sized bag to his shoulder.

"Wait. Let me enchant it," Alina reminded. Then she held out her hands and concentrated. Purple mist drifted over the bag and then she said, "Okay, done. Now go give it to the Zimmermans."

"Here's some small buckets," Grace said, picking some up off the wall where they hung. "They can put the corn in that and hang it from their handbars and throw it down as they ride."

"Good thinking, Grace," Alina grinned.

"I'll send them over to them," Henry said, and did so.

Hans went out of the barn to give the corn to the Zimmermans.

Soon he returned, and they went across the floor to the door opposite.

Once they had opened it, they found the turkeys on the other side . . . all of them sitting or standing in straw beds in wooden boxes. Some were sleeping, others were just standing there.

They gobbled and squawked when they saw the children.

"Okay, let's get them moving," said Hans, and he ran at them, gently shooing them off their nests and towards the door that Henry held open.

Alina and Grace helped, until all sixty turkeys were through the door and into the part of the barn with the feed sacks.

Hans and Grace took over, clucking to the turkeys and Hans swung his crook at them, getting them to waddle through the barn door.

They made an unholy racket, and Alina and Henry concentrated, summoning a thick purple mist about the flock, muffling their gobbling.

Grace and Hans herded the turkeys through the yard and out the gate they'd left open, the turkeys were a bit skittish and flapped their wings and gobbled, hopping all over the ground once they were free of the yard's confines.

Henry and Alina followed, still conjuring purple mist to hide the flock and their friends from sight.

There were a few tense moments once the turkeys were out of the fenced in yard, as they scattered all over, making Hans and Grace run about and herd them back together.

"Get, you silly birds!" Grace cried, and swung her hands at them, urging the turkeys back together on the right side.

"Come on, you dumb clucks," Hans said, chivvying them on the left with his crook. "You wanna be somebody's dinner?"

It was hard for the children to get the turkeys moving in the right direction, but after a few tries they managed to get them heading down the driveway.

"Here they come!" Nick cried, and hopped on his bike, throwing out some enchanted corn as he did so.

Eva did also, and then they pedaled outside the entrance and down the street a ways and halted.

The turkeys, upon seeing the lovely corn along the ground, raced over to it and began to eat it up.

"Yay! Turkeys!" Regina cheered. She stood up in the wagon, clapping as the turkeys milled around her and pecked the ground.

Henry reached her just as the turkeys started to follow the trail of corn out the entrance. "Regina, sit down!" he ordered. "We're going to follow the turkeys, okay?"

"Like a parade!" she yelled.

"Shh! You want somebody to hear us?" Alina scolded, and hopped on her own bike. She was still casting the purple mist, but as the last turkey ran out the entrance, she released her spell. "Ugh! I feel like I've ran three miles!" she groaned.

"You can ride though?" Henry asked.

"Yeah. I'll be fine," Alina yawned. "C'mon, Henry." She pedaled after the flock and the rest of their friends.

Henry did as well, and they all followed the Zimmermans as they led the turkeys down the sidewalk and then through the woods, the birds following the magical corn diligently.

By the time they had gotten the flock through part of the woods and out again down to Main Street, the sky had brightened from a grayish pink to a beautiful rosy golden dawn, and the sun was shining.

The flock of turkeys was gobbling and waddling along after Eva and Nick as they sprinkled corn out of their buckets as they rode to the convent, pedaling down Main Street as quickly as they could, a trail of golden feed corn sparkling along behind them.

Henry and Alina brought up the rear with Regina, who was sitting in the back of the wagon belting out the gobble gobble turkey song for all she was worth, while Grace and Hans rode on either side of the flock, gently shooing a few who got shoved out of the way back on track.

When they started towards the convent, it was a little after six o'clock, and not many cars or people were out and about. But as they traveled, more and more people started driving to their jobs or opening their businesses and some of them stared as the flock of turkeys and children rode down the street.

"Hey!" called Sneezy as he opened up the pharmacy. "What's up with the turkeys?"

"It's a Thanksgiving parade!" Hans, Grace, Alina, and Henry chorused.

"Yeah, a parade!" Regina hooted, waving her hands and singing lustily, "Mr. Turkey's tail is wide . . . he waddles when he walks . . ."

They passed Archie's office, where a sleepy-eyed Dr. Hopper was coming down the stairs with Pongo, who started barking at the sight of the flock of turkeys. "Huh? What's going on?" he asked, then called, "Easy, Pongo! Hey, Henry! Where are you going with all those turkeys?"

"It's a parade, Dr. Hopper!" the boy called.

"Hi, Archie!" Regina squealed, waving as they went by.

They paraded down past the radio and TV station where Good Morning Storybrooke was located, drawing the attention of a certain reporter in a black leather jacket as they marched by.

The flock and the children passed the town hall and then they were pedaling up the hill to the convent, the turkeys waddling and squawking along, leaving a trail of feathers and other things in their wake.

"Eeew! Henry, that turkey pooped on the ground!" cried Regina, pointing. "That's 'sgusting! They's 's'post to go in the potty!"

Henry couldn't help it. He cracked up at the image Regina's words conjured in his head and he was almost laughing too hard to pedal his bike.

"They're turkeys, Regina," Alina told her as she rode beside the wagon. "They don't know any better." She was smiling.

Eva and Nick crested the hill and coasted down the other side, where they convent gates were. They skidded to a stop and halted, their almost empty buckets of feed corn banging against the handlebars. "Okay, we're here. But . . . how do we get inside?" they panted.

Henry rode up and set a hand on the gate, and it swung open at his touch as he used his magic again.

They all rode into the convent's yard, and Henry took Regina by the hand and ran up to the double doors, knocking on them.

"Mother Superior!" he called loudly. "Please let us in! We . . . uh . . . claim sanctuary for us and these . . . err . . . turkeys!"

The turkeys milled about on the lawn, clucking and gobbling as they pecked up the feed corn.

The children waited, shifting from foot to foot.

"Maybe they didn't hear you," Alina said.

Suddenly the door of the convent swung open and Mother Superior, also known as Blue, appeared in the doorway. "Children, why are you claiming sanctuary?"

"Because otherwise all these turkeys are going to die," Henry said.

"Yeah, an' we don't want 'em to get eaten!" Regina cried. "They's gots feelings an' need to live too!"

"Please, Mother Superior, you've got to help us!" Alina said.

Blue stared out at the six children and the flock of turkeys for several moments. Then she nodded and said, "Very well, children, come in, quickly. I grant you and these . . . err . . . turkeys the sanctuary of the convent."

As the children went inside, along with the turkeys, a tall man in a black jacket watched from the crest of the hill. August pursed his lips and eyed the "parade" of turkeys and the children with interest. He smelled a story here and he needed something newsworthy to report for Good Morning Storybrooke. And this looked like it would fit the bill nicely.

Tucking his hands in his pockets, he started walking down the hill to the convent, determined to talk with Mother Superior or one of the nuns in a little while. He settled on a bench outside the convent doors to wait, wondering just what could cause the Gold children and their friends to bring a flock of turkeys to the convent. "Finally, I found a Thanksgiving interest story . . . just in time too!" he muttered, then he made a quick call back to the station to tell his boss where he was and what he had discovered.

Inside the convent, Grace and Hans herded the turkeys into the prayer garden along with the Zimmermans, who threw down the last of the enchanted corn for the flock while Alina, Henry, and Regina explained to Blue inside her office just why they needed sanctuary for themselves and a flock of turkeys.

**A/N: Now who thinks the kids' parents are going to flip out when they find them gone?**

**Rumple's Recipe Corner:**

**Grace's Indian Pudding**

4 cups whole milk

1/2 cup cornmeal

1/2 cup molasses

1/4 cup pure maple syrup

2 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened, plus more for baking dish

2 large eggs, beaten

1 teaspoon table salt

2 teaspoons granulated sugar

1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon ground ginger

1/8 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

Preheat the oven to 300° and grease a 11/2-quart baking dish.

Bring milk to a simmer in a double boiler over high heat. Slowly add the cornmeal, whisking to combine. Continue to cook, whisking constantly, for 15 minutes.

Slowly add molasses, then remove from heat. Add maple syrup and the rest of the ingredients and stir until smooth.

Pour mixture into the prepared baking dish, and bake until the pudding is set and the top is browned, about 2 hours. Serve hot or cold, topped with vanilla ice cream or whipped cream.


	5. August's Scoop

**5**

**August's Scoop**

**A/N: Thanks guys for all your awesome reviews! Hope you like the recipes at the end and the chapter too!**

Mr. Fox woke up at precisely six thirty and then went to wake up his son, whose job it was to feed and water the sixty turkeys in the enclosure before he went to school each morning. He padded silently into Ash's room and shook the boy gently. "Ash. Time to wake up, son."

Ash opened one brown eye blearily. "Aww, Dad! Five more minutes!" His shock of red hair stood up from his head. He half-burrowed under the covers.

"Get up!" Fox ordered, giving the boy a quick cuff to the back of the head. "You're burning daylight and those turkeys won't wait to be fed. Got to keep them in top condition so they're ready to be eaten by tomorrow."

Ash muffled a yelp and groused, "Okay, I'm up!" He turned over and glared at his father.

"Then get going, boy," Fox said gruffly and left the room.

Muttering under his breath, the twelve-year-old got up and got dressed. "Stupid turkeys! I wish they'd all disappear!"

He pulled on his anorak and went outside in the frosty air, stamping his feet slightly. He was a medium-sized lanky kid with a slender pointed face and large brown eyes and a shock of bright auburn hair. He was not very popular in school, mostly because he was shy and quiet, and could have a snarky tongue on him at times. He was also the son of a rather shady businessman, and he knew that at times his father had been less than honest with people.

Ash wasn't proud of that, but since there was nothing he could do about it, he chose to just ignore it . . . as much as possible anyhow.

He went across the lawn and to the chain link fence where the turkeys were kept. Usually they'd be gobbling by now for their breakfast. But it was strangely silent.

Ash halted about two feet from the enclosure, seeing the open gate, the padlock lying on the ground before it. He sprinted inside and then he saw the open barn door . . . and the barn was empty of turkeys.

"Dad! _Dad!_ The turkeys—they're . . . _gone_!"

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Fire Mountain dojo:_

Emma was dreaming of soaking up the sun on a crystal clear beach in Key West, while the ocean gleamed cobalt a few strides away and her husband was sprawled on a towel beside her, gently massaging her back with some coconut-scented lotion when the shrill shriek of her pager disrupted her dream.

She woke and turned over to grab the annoying thing, hitting the retrieve button as she did so. "Dammit! Why now? It's too early for this!"

Beside her, Bae stirred. "Emma?"

"Somebody paged me. Go back to sleep," she muttered, rising and grabbing her cell and dialing the number on the pager. "Hello? Yes, this is Sheriff Gold. . . .Excuse me? You want to report . . . _sixty_ turkeys gone missing?" she cried. "Oh, that's right . . . you're the guy who owns the turkey farm . . . and you say they were gone when your son came out to feed them this morning . . .you're sure the gate was locked? Okay, Mr. Fox . . . I'm coming over to check it out ASAP. Goodbye."

Emma clicked her cell off and started throwing on some clothes. "I don't _believe_ this! Somebody stole sixty turkeys from Fox's Fowl Farm. How insane is that?"

Bae half-sat up. "Maybe they got really hungry," he quipped.

"You're hilarious, Baelfire," his wife snorted. "Now I have to investigate a grand theft turkey. Only in Storybrooke!"

"It's worse than Phoenix," Bae snickered. "Have fun, babe. I'm going back to sleep for a bit before I wake up Henry and Regina."

"Lucky you," Emma sighed, and blew him a kiss. "Later, hon."

Then she shoved her feet into her boots and raced out the door, grabbing her jacket, keys, and cuffs on the way. She'd stop at Granny's for coffee and a donut on the way to Fox's. This was turning out to be a hell of a Thanksgiving holiday, and it technically hadn't even started yet.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

_Gold residence:_

Mr. Gold bent down and scratched a purring Nala behind the ears as she twined about his ankles. "All right, pretty baby," he crooned softly. "I'll feed you in a minute."

He summoned a can of cat food from his pantry and opened it, putting it in the black cat's dish. Nala ran over and started wolfing it down, while he added fresh water in another ceramic dish, since his vet told him that cats didn't like to drink water out of plastic bowls, apparently they could smell the odor of the plastic in the water or something.

He had just added some fresh Seafood Supreme Fancy Feast dry food in her other dish and put the kettle on for tea when his phone rang.

Still in his pajamas, he padded over to where the cordless rested on its base on the counter and picked it up. "Hello? Bae? Why are you calling at this hour of the morning? Is something wrong?"

"Papa? I . . . I'm calling to ask . . . is Henry over there with Regina? Because . . . I went to wake them up and they're . . . missing!"Bae's voice sounded frantic. "Emma's out on a call, something about Fox's turkeys being stolen, and I didn't call her yet, because I wanted to check with you first."

"Bae, he's not here," Rumple said softly, alarmed. "Are you sure he didn't leave a note or something telling you where he went?"

"No. I checked. Papa, they're both gone and so's his bike and the Radio Flyer and his backpack. I don't get it. Why would he . . . run away? With Regina?"

"Have you checked down by the park? You know how he likes to play in that old castle. Maybe he took Regina there," Rumple suggested.

"Uh, no. Have you talked to Alina? Maybe she knows?" Bae asked, still sounding shaky.

"She's staying over at Grace's house. They were making some desserts for Thanksgiving with Alice," Rumple said. "Why don't you give Alice a call while I speak with Belle? If they're not there, come by and I'll help you search."

"Can you . . . will you use your magic?" Bae queried.

"Yes, if you want me to," Rumple said cautiously.

"I do. Please! What if they've been . . . kidnapped?"

"In Storybrooke?" Rumple frowned. "I doubt that. They're probably off playing or something."

"This early in the morning?" Bae asked, starting to calm down some and now sounding more annoyed than frantic. "I swear, Papa, when I get hold of him, he'll be lucky if I don't paddle his little ass for making me crazy."

Rumple chuckled slightly. "I said the same thing once upon a time, Bae. When you kept wandering off on me."

"When did I do that?"

"You were around Regina's age then, and forever running off to explore . . . and making _me_ crazy looking for you."

"Great! I guess this is what it means when somebody tells you the best revenge is having kids just like you," Bae groaned.

"Just remember, _you_ said it, Baelfire, not me," Rumple stated.

"Yeah, okay, Papa. Let me call Alice, then I'll call you back and let you know what's up," Bae said, then hung up the phone.

A concerned Rumple poured tea for himself and Belle, praying that his grandson and niece were all right.

After he'd fixed their tea and made some toast and yogurt with fruit for Belle, he went to call her down to breakfast and tell her about Henry and Regina. He hated to upset her, but she deserved to know, and she would be spitting mad if she found out he'd kept this from her in an attempt to protect her.

He was so concerned over his missing grandson and niece that he forgot all about the other thing he wished to discuss with her—her odd nocturnal ramblings and episodes and if there was something she wasn't telling him about the babies.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Bae's next phone call to Alice revealed that Henry and Regina weren't at the Carstairs residence, though Alice suggested he check with Granny since Alina and Grace were over there meeting the Zimmermans and Hans Mason for some kind of school project and having breakfast also before school.

Bae called the diner then, and hoped his son was there and had just been stupid and forgotten to tell him where he was going. But the phone rang and rang and no one answered. After the tenth ring, Bae hung up and resolved to go check there himself.

But when he arrived at the familiar hang out, he found no children inside, and when he glanced at the traffic light, saw the school bus pulling away from it, and assumed that the kids were on it, going to school. He went and asked Ruby if she'd seen Henry that morning . . . or Regina with him.

"No, can't say I have," she said. "Something the matter, hot stuff?" she said, giving him a teasing wink.

"Uh . . . not really," Bae said, trying to keep calm. But his heart was pounding away a mile a minute as he imagined all kinds of terrible things. "Thanks, Ruby."

"Hey, you want some coffee?" she asked.

"To go, please," Bae said, figuring the caffeine would keep him energized.

Ruby handed him a Styrofoam cup with some coffee in it, cream and one sugar, just like he always had it. "See ya around, Bae!"

He waved and then climbed back in his Escape and took off.

He arrived at Gold's Victorian a few minutes later, and found his parents waiting anxiously in the kitchen, Belle was wearing a pretty violet maternity top and a matching sweater Rumple had knitted for her over frost-colored leggings and Velcro sheepskin slippers, since her feet were swollen at times and that was all she could wear nowadays. Rumple was in his usual dark Armani with his red Ferragamo and smoky gray shirt, his hair loosely combed.

"Bae, did you find them?" Belle asked as he came through the door.

Baelfire shook his head. "No, Mama. I've been looking all over and I . . ."

She put a hand on his arm and said softly, "Sit down, Bae. Rumple, get him some tea."

Bae sighed. "I'd rather have a shot of whiskey. It's like they disappeared, Papa. I called Alice like you said and . . ." he filled Rumple in on his most recent activities, then said, "I haven't even told Emma yet, she's going to flip."

"You call her, Bae, while I cast a locator spell," Rumple said.

Belle suddenly rose and pulled on her coat. "Rumple, I have to go. I have my doctor's appointment in fifteen minutes. Dr. Jo's doing another ultrasound today and I can't miss it."

"Okay, dearie. Is Alice picking you up?" Rumple asked. "You know I'd go with you but with Henry and Regina missing . . ."

"I know. You just concentrate on finding them," Belle said quickly. "Alice and I will be fine." She didn't mention that she was also going to pay a visit to the convent and speak with Blue about her strange symptoms. Based on what the Blue Fairy told her, she would talk to Rumple later on about it.

She gave her husband a kiss and then left, saying as she did so, "Call me on my cell when you find out anything, okay?"

"I will. And let me know what Dr. Jo says about the babies. Bring me another picture too," Rumple said, waving at his wife as she went out the door. He heard Alice honk the horn in the driveway. Then he turned to look at Bae and said, "All right, son. Let me see where he is."

Bae exhaled sharply. "Thank you, Papa."

Rumple didn't bother answering, simply lowered his head and concentrated hard. His spell was a simple one, he searched for Henry's magical signature in the arcane web, and being his teacher in magic as well as his relative helped him locate the boy's signature rather quickly.

Rumple opened his eyes. "Bae, I've found him. He's okay, at least as far as I can determine. He's not in any danger."

"Where is he? How do you know that?"

"Because if he was in danger, it would reflect in his magical signature. It doesn't. He's okay," Rumple repeated reassuringly. "And he's at the convent."

"The . . . convent? With the nuns . . . I mean the fairies?" Bae cried. "And what about Regina? Is she with him?"

"Yes. I felt her beside him. As to why, I have no idea. But let's go there and find out," Rumple said, getting up.

Bae nodded, feeling an insurmountable relief. "And he'd better have a damn good explanation for what he's doing there." Suddenly his stomach growled.

"Hungry?" Rumple queried.

"Yeah, I . . . uh . . . didn't eat anything this morning since I found them gone," Bae admitted.

"Why don't we go over to Granny's and we can have breakfast?" Rumple suggested. "Now that we know they're not in danger, we have time."

"Maybe that's a good idea," Bae said. "I am starving and it'll give me time to cool down and lose my desire to wallop him into next week."

"Sounds like a plan," Rumple said. "And you can call Emma afterwards."

"Yeah. Otherwise she'll strangle me," Bae said, and then the two went out to Gold's Cadillac.

**Page~*~*~*~*~*~Break**

"So . . . Mother Superior . . . what's going on with all these turkeys in the convent?" August queried after he'd been admitted into the convent's hallowed halls. "You and the sisters organizing a Thanksgiving feed the needy party or something?"

Blue shook her head. "No, although we are taking donations for both the poor families in Storybrooke and to rescue the turkeys from their fate."

"Meaning you don't want them becoming the main course at Thanksgiving?" August clarified.

"It's not so much that I don't want that to happen—although I am an avowed vegetarian—as are all my sisters, but the children who brought the turkeys here are adamant that they be saved. The children have asked for sanctuary for themselves and the flock and I've granted it, as is my right," Blue said serenely.

August's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Sanctuary? For turkeys? But . . . I thought that was only for people!"

"It's for any who ask . . . and the children asked on behalf of the birds. Sanctuary is for _all_ living things, August, and that includes dumb beasts."

"What prompted these kids to bring the turkeys here, do you know?" August probed.

"I do. But I'll not reveal that confidence. If you want to know, I suggest you go and ask them yourself. They'll tell you . . . if you ask them nicely and don't judge them," Blue said.

"Me? Lady, I'm the last person to judge anybody," August chuckled. "Okay. Thanks and where can I find them?"

"They're in the prayer garden. I believe Sister Astrid is with them," Mother Superior answered.

"This ought to be good," August said happily. Finally an interesting story!

Five minutes later he was scribbling down quotes as he talked first to Alina Gold, then to her nephew Henry, and then to little Regina Nolan. "So . . . you all decided to save the turkeys from Mr. Fox and the rest of the people who want to kill and eat them for Thanksgiving?"

"Yeah, 'cause it's mean and nasty to kill them!" Regina said. "They oughta be left alone in peace!"

August raised an eyebrow. "She's got the whole Greenpeace thing down cold. Who taught her that?"

"I think it's because her dad took her to see that movie Free Birds," Henry said.

"And also because her mom loves birds and taught Regina to love them too," Alina reminded them.

Regina nodded. "Turkeys are our friends! And they're pretty too! Their tails got lots of colors an' they shake them like this!" She promptly demonstrated the way a turkey waddled and shook its tail by imitating it and shaking her behind.

August started grinning. "Oh, God! That's so priceless! I have to get that on camera!"

"Here," Henry handed August his phone.

August snapped a picture and then gave it back. "Thanks, Henry." Then he turned to the other children. "And you all agree with this . . . Save the Birds rally you've got going here?"

"Yeah," said Grace.

"We do," said Eva.

"Fox cheated my dad, so now we can cheat him outta his turkeys," Hans said. "Fair's fair."

"What do you mean by that, Mr. Mason?" asked August.

Hans explained what he meant, and August wrote it down.

Then August said, "But what about the fact that you . . . asking for sanctuary for these birds is going to make Mr. Fox and some other people unhappy about . . . err . . . taking their turkeys from them? It's sort of like stealing."

"Uh . . ." Grace now looked uneasy, as clearly that hadn't crossed her mind until August mentioned it.

"We weren't really _stealing _the turkeys, August," Henry protested. "We were liberating them from certain death."

"It's not like we want to sell them to the highest bidder," Alina pointed out. "We just want to protect them. Sort of like you'd protect an abused animal."

The Zimmermans nodded in agreement. "Yeah, and we've read about terrible things they do to the poor turkeys to . . . uh . .fatten them up, like force feeding them and giving them antibodies and stuff," Nick said.

"Antibiotics," Alina corrected. "So they . .. uh . . . get fatter and they can't fly. It's just . . . disgusting to treat them like that. I mean, I've eaten turkey before, but I never thought about . . . err . . . how they were treated before they became dinner."

"Alina's right. I didn't either, and now that I do know . . . I don't think I could eat turkey right now," Henry said softly. "But I'm not saying that everyone shouldn't . . . just that's how I feel . . . and maybe people should think about stuff like that and not just . . . follow along because it's tradition."

Grace shook her head in agreement. "Some traditions are good and some aren't. And this one . . . isn't really good for me."

"We'd rather eat poultry," the Zimmermans chorused.

"Or ham. I like ham," Hans added.

"Pizza!" Regina cried. "Then no turkeys will die! An' the president can pardon 'em."

"How do you figure that, Regina?" asked August.

"Like in the movie. _You_ know," she said, and gave him a look like he was an imbecile.

"I've never seen it. So . . . tell me about it," he encouraged.

Then he listened while Regina told him all about Free Birds and how turkeys were beautiful animals and they didn't deserve to be eaten for dinner, no matter what.

She was so earnest and endearing that he found himself unable to quit smiling at her. "Okay . . . but what about the people who want to eat turkey for dinner? What would you tell them?"

"Let 'em eat cake! An' pizza instead!"

August quickly scribbled down more quotes, and wished he'd thought to bring along his mini recorder, but it was still on his desk back at the TV station. At any rate, this was the best scoop he'd had in a month of Sundays, and if this didn't please his boss, he'd eat his hat and quit journalism.

"Thanks, guys! I'm going to do a write up on you and your Save the Birds Crusade, maybe get some of my news crew over here to film you a bit for the morning episode," he told them.

"Like . . . we're gonna be on TV?" Hans gasped.

"On Good Morning Storybrooke?" Grace asked.

"Uh . . . yeah, as long as my boss says so," August replied. "Now, you all just sit tight here and . . . uh . . . play with the turkeys. I've got to skedaddle if I'm going to make the morning show. Oh, and by the way, what's your parents have to say about all this?"

"Uh . .. they kind of . . . don't know," Henry admitted guiltily.

"Not yet. But they will . . . once they see us on TV," Alina said. "And I think my papa's gonna flip out. And my mama too."

"Mine definitely will," Hans said glumly.

"Even our foster parents won't be too thrilled," said Nick.

"Mine will too probably," Grace said.

"My mom is going to be totally freaking out," Henry said. "And my dad too."

"Are we gonna . . . like be in serious trouble, Henry?" asked Regina nervously.

"Uh . . ." he sighed. "Yeah, maybe."

"Maybe?" repeated Hans. "I don't know about you, Gold, but I'm dead meat once I leave here. So maybe I'll just stay here with the sisters and be their chore boy. It's better than being killed."

"I'm sure your parents will understand, kids," said August gently. "I'll be back."

Then he left by the side door.

"Sure. Right," Hans snorted. "Buddy, have you _met_ my father?" Then he shrugged. "But it was worth it to stick it to Fox for once."

"And save the turkeys," Regina reminded him.

"I wonder what Gramps and Gran will think of this?" Henry mused to Alina.

"Search me," His aunt said. Whatever they thought, it was sure to be memorable.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Belle clutched her new ultrasound picture her OBGYN had given her as Alice drove to the convent, looking down at the 3D picture and smiling wistfully. Dr. Jo had said the babies were doing fine, though one was a little small. "But I wouldn't worry about that, Belle," she'd said. "With twins, one is usually smaller. But they're both lively and healthy, which is what's important . . . and so are you."

Belle could have found out the sex of the babies, but had opted instead to be surprised. And now she was going over to see Blue and speak with her about a very different matter . . . and depending on what Blue said or did, she was going to have a very difficult discussion with Rumple later on. She patted her pocket where her cell was, wondering why Rumple hadn't called her with an update on Henry yet.

Alice pulled into the parking lot of the convent, and looked curiously at her best friend. "So . . . want to tell me why you need to talk to Blue all of a sudden?"

Belle looked at her. "Well . . . it's sort of complicated . . . and sort of a secret. I haven't told Rumple yet."

"Keeping secrets from your husband? How come?"

"Remember when I told you we had some trouble coming back on the plane from Manhattan with that damn sorcerer?" Belle asked. "Well, Mary Margaret and I had to sprinkle pixie dust all over . . ."

Alice's blue eyes widened to the size of saucers and she said, "Oh jumping Jehosephat! Rumple's really not gonna like hearing that? But hey, if it happened, it happened . . . and I'm sure he'll adjust."

"_If_ it happened," Belle sighed. "Though with my symptoms, I'm almost positive it did. But Blue can confirm it." She chewed her lower lip nervously.

"Don't sweat it, Belle. Rumple might be a wee bit ticked off, but he'll understand . . . eventually." Alice said comfortingly.

"I hope so. I never meant to keep it from him this long, but . . . I was hoping maybe it was nothing and I wouldn't have to tell him . . .wish me luck," Belle said, giving Alice a small smile.

Alice squeezed her hand. "Whatever happens, girlfriend, you know I've got your back. And if Mr. G gives you a hard time, send him over to me and I'll straighten his ass out."

Belle giggled. "Okay, Alice. Will do," then she slowly got out of the car and walked up to the convent doors.

She was ushered inside by one of the sisters, and led down the hall to Mother Superior's office.

Blue looked up as she entered. "Hello, Belle!" she greeted the very pregnant woman. "You look . . . glowing so near to your time. And how are the babies doing?"

Belle smiled back at the Blue Fairy. "Acccording to Dr. Jo, they're doing great. Except . . . sonograms don't reveal something that I need to know, Blue. Something that only you can tell me."

"And what would that be?" asked Blue.

"Whether or not my babies have been affected by pixie dust."

**Page~*~*~*~*~*~Break**

Bae was sipping his second cup of coffee while eating his ham and cheese omelet with crunchy spicy home fries and some toast, sitting across from Rumple, who had his own mug of coffee, scrambled eggs and some bacon.

"Papa, he's still there, right?" Bae asked quietly as he ate another bite.

Rumple nodded. "Yes. Now don't talk with your mouth full, you'll choke."

Bae just rolled his eyes at that parental admission, but he did chew and swallow before saying, "Sometimes I really don't understand what gets into that kid. I mean, Emma and I have both told him to never just . . . take off, to always let us know where he's going. And now he's dragged Regina along with him. Sometimes I feel like I'm talking to a wall."

"I know. I felt that too . . . especially after that fire incident," Rumple commiserated. "We all do when our children don't listen to our advice and do something forbidden."

Bae sighed ruefully. "It's not only that he disobeyed me . . . it's that I feel like . . . I did something wrong, otherwise he wouldn't get into trouble, like I'm not a good parent . . ."

"You didn't, son. Trust me. All kids get into trouble . . . and it has nothing to do with you not being a good parent. It's just kids being kids. But I know how you feel. And you just have to keep reminding yourself that—" he trailed off as he stared at the TV screen on the wall across from Bae's head at the counter.

"Good Morning Storybrooke reporter August Booth presents the holiday story of the season, as children Henry Gold, Alina Gold, and little Regina Nolan, and their friends Grace Carstairs, Eva and Nicholas Zimmerman, and Hans Mason stage a protest over killing Thanksgiving turkeys by liberating t a flock of turkeys from Mr. Fox and taking them down to the convent for sanctuary. August will be filming individual interviews with all the kids who want to save our national bird from the menu in about an hour . . ."

Bae had a forkful of his omelet halfway to his mouth when he dropped the fork onto his plate.

Rumple's hand opened and dropped what remained of his bacon as the two men stared at each other with identical shocked expressions.

"Did they just—?" Gold began.

"Henry's involved with a turkey heist . . .?" Bae muttered.

"Alina too . . ." Rumple looked like someone had smashed him in the head with a board.

"Jesus H. Christ!" Both men said at the same time.

"Papa, we've got to get down to the convent," Bae said. "Emma's probably already there, if she's heard about it." He quickly wiped his mouth and stood up.

"Yes." Gold reached into his wallet and pulled out a twenty and left it there. "Sanctuary for turkeys . . . Alina Rose, _what_ were you thinking? Belle's going to have a conniption . . ."

Bae just shook his head. "Okay . . . our kids are officially _crazy_, Papa."

"And officially grounded for life," the sorcerer growled. "Come on, Bae. We need to make a few deals. Before this whole thing spirals out of control . . . if it hasn't already. And somebody ought to call David . . ."

They practically ran out of the diner to the Cadillac, while Bae dialed the mayor's office on the way.

**Rumple's Recipe Corner:**

**Okay, dearies, today you get two for one over here!**

**Alice's Thanksgiving Green Bean Casserole**

**(not the one your mom used to make)**

3 T olive oil, plus more for dish

Kosher salt and pepper

2 lbs of green beans, trimmed and halved

6 oz sweet Italian sausage, casing removed, 3 links

1 c Italian style bread crumbs

¼ c plus 2 T grated Parmesan

1 finely chopped onion

1 clove garlic, minced

¾ c 2% milk

4 oz lowfat cream cheese

Pinch nutmeg

Pinch of cayenne pepper

2 t lemon zest

1 bunch of spinach, roughly chopped, stems discarded

Heat oven to 375. Oil a 2 qt baking dish or a foil pan. Bring a large pot of salted water to boil. Add green beans and cook till tender, 3-4 minutes. Drain and run under water to cool.

Meanwhile, heat 1 T olive oil in large skillet. Add sausage and cook, breaking it up with a spoon, till browned, 5 minutes. Transfer to bowl and toss with bread crumbs and 2 T Parmesan.

Wipe out skillet and heat 2 T of remaining oil over med heat. Add onion season with ½ t salt and ¼ t pepper, cover, and cook, stirring occasionally until very tender , 6-8 min. Stir in garlic and cook for 1 min.

Whisk in milk and bring to a simmer. Whisk in cream cheese, remaining Parmesan, nutmeg, and cayenne, bringing to a simmer, stirring occasionally, until thickened—2-3 minutes. Stir in lemon zest, then toss with green beans.

Fold in spinach and then put in pan, sprinkle with sausage mixture. Bake till golden brown 15-20 min.

**David's Broccoli Cheese Bake**

_Serves 6_

**Ingredients:**

4 cups fresh broccoli, chopped

1/2 cup onion, finely chopped

2 tablespoons water

1 1/2 cups egg substitute

1 cup skim milk

1 cup shredded low-fat cheddar cheese

1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper

Cooking spray

**Preparation:**

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Lightly coat a baking dish with cooking spray.

2. In a nonstick skillet, combine the broccoli, onion and water. Sauté over medium-high heat until the vegetables are tender, about 5 to 8 minutes. Keep adding water to prevent the vegetables from drying out, but use as little water as possible. Drain and set aside when the broccoli is done.

3. In a bowl, combine the egg substitute, milk and 3/4 cup cheese. Add in the broccoli mixture and pepper. Stir to mix well.

4. Transfer the mixture into the prepared baking dish. Set the baking dish into a large pan filled with about 1" of water. Bake uncovered until a knife inserted in the center comes out clean, about 45 minutes.

5. Remove from the oven and top with the remaining 1/4 cup shredded cheese. Let stand about 10 minutes before serving.


	6. Free the Birds vs Taste the Birds

**6**

**Free the Birds vs. Taste the Birds**

Snow was just getting ready to teach math, thinking how odd it was that six of her pupils were absent on this half-day of school, then supposed that Henry, Alina, and Grace might have been kept home to help with Thanksgiving preparations or maybe even to keep an eye on Regina, but it was surprising both Zimmermans and Hans was absent too. Hans had been attending school on a regular basis since helping Emma catch Smee in the arson attempt on Mr. Gold's shop and after Gold's little talk with him about staying in school and then working in his shop. So having him absent was a bit odd.

Then she shrugged and thought that at least she had most of her class here and they could do some fun projects after she taught them how to multiply fractions. And it had been nice to have some along time with David since Regina was over Emma's, and she had been able to make her apple pie for Thanksgiving and David his broccoli cheese bake. Actually, the apple pie had once been Regina's recipe, which Snow had found in a box of recipe cards after going through the kitchen after the house on Mifflin Street had sold to Mr. Fox. She had looked it over carefully, finding it had nothing dangerous in it, and decided to try it out for Thanksgiving.

"Okay, class, now get out your math books," she began, standing up and going to the board.

There came a universal groan from the class. "Aww, Mrs. Nolan, why do we have to do math now?"

"Yeah, can't we do current events instead?"

"And _then_ can we do math?" pleaded Susie Trumbel, who was the daughter of Mrs. Trumbel who ran the Storybrooke Animal Center.

"Um . . . well . . . all right, since this is half a day . . . we can do something different," Snow agreed.

"Yes!" they all cheered as Snow picked up the remote and turned on the TV on the stand in the corner, which was tuned to the local news station.

The kids all clapped when the anchorman for Good Morning Storybrooke came on and announced that there was going to be a special report today in honor of Thanksgiving featuring some of the children of Storybrooke's most prominent citizens. "And now . .. here's August Booth bringing you the Thanksgiving story of the century here in this sleepy little town . . . August, you're on . . ."

Snow gaped in shock as August began telling about the liberation of an entire flock of turkeys by seven children—and then named all her missing students, plus her daughter!

"Ohh! Free the Birds!" the other children clapped as August interviewed Henry and Alina, who explained how they'd been brought to realize the turkeys were being mistreated by Regina.

"Yeah, Gold! Save those turkeys!" chanted Susie, going all googly-eyed over Henry.

"Shhh! Look, it's Regina!" hissed a few of them, and they all went "Aww!" and grew quiet when Regina came on the screen, in her little Pocahontas costume.

"Regina, tell everybody why you want to save the turkeys," prompted August, and then he held the microphone by her mouth.

"Well . . . see the turkeys are bee-you-tee-ful birds, and my mommy always says that birds are our friends, so's we should be nice to them an' not eat them 'cause it's mean and nasty to eat your friends . . . I mean would _you_ wanna get eaten for dinner?" she demanded, and pointed at August.

"Uh, no, I wouldn't," August laughed. "But Regina, what about all the people in Storybrooke who want to eat turkey for Thanksgiving? What should they do?"

"They can eat somethin' else. Like ham . . . or . . . pizza!" And she grinned right into the camera, her dark eyes sparkling. "An' that's why we have the turkeys here . . . to pr'tect them an' we ain't comin' out till they's pardoned and nobody eats them!"

"And there you have it, folks, out of the mouths of babes," August stated, and gestured to Regina, who began singing her turkey song and prancing in front of the cameras.

"Aww! She's adorable!" cooed the girls in Snow's class.

"Let's help save the turkeys!" shrilled Susie.

"Yeah! We can make signs and stuff," cried her friend Miriam.

"Let's have a protest march!" called Ian, whose father worked for Good Morning Storybrooke.

"Mrs. Nolan, where's the markers?" demanded one of the students.

"And the poster board?" cried another.

Snow was standing there, flabbergasted at how her daughter had captivated the school children and how oddly proud she was of her baby . . . who said her mommy had taught her to love birds! "Uh . . . okay . . ." she muttered.

The children all cheered and grabbed the markers and poster board from the supply closet and set to work making signs that said **Have A Turkeyless Thanksgiving** and **Free the Birds** and **Go Whole Hog For Dinner** with a turkey in a red circle with a line drawn through it below it.

Snow had to admit this was the most enthusiastic and animated they'd been since last year's Christmas pageant, when Miriam Foster had played Mary in the nativity scene and dropped baby Jesus on his head in the middle of the angel Gabriel's speech about following the star.

"Mrs. Nolan, I wanna draw some Indian corn on the top of my poster, can you help?" called little Thea Gibbons, and so Snow went over to assist her with her signs, thinking it a fine thing for the children to be so concerned about animals in this day and age, and wondering how others were taking the protest and sanctuary of the turkeys.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Mayor David Nolan was going to have a nervous breakdown in about fifty seconds if the phone didn't stop ringing off the wall with complaints and comments about the Good Morning Storybrooke special and the liberation of the Thanksgiving turkey flock. He couldn't believe that his grandson and little girl had gone and . . . _stolen_ an entire flock of turkeys . . . right out from under Mr. Fox's nose. He had nearly fallen off his chair when he'd received Bae's phone call, which had been the first of many that morning.

He was just about to leave his office and go down to the convent when an irate Mr. Fox stormed into the office. "Hello, Mr. Fox. What can I do for you?"

Fox was a medium-sized man with longish red hair and a small goatee and his eyes were a light brown, almost amber. He had a lean pointed face and was wearing jeans and a brown polo shirt with a tan bomber jacket on. "You can help me get justice for my stolen turkeys, mayor, that's what you can do!" he snapped, his voice going slightly high, like a fox yipping.

Actually, David thought, that wasn't far from the truth, since back in Fairy Tale Land, Fox had been . . . well, a fox, literally. And so had his son, and Fox's mate, Felicity, who had been shot and killed by one of Regina's guards after she had attempted to raid the chicken coop just before Regina enacted the Dark Curse. Which was how the Foxes ended up in Storybrooke . . . as humans.

"I demand compensation for my losses!" he yelled. "Those hooligans of yours belong in juvie for stealing!"

"Mr. Fox, please calm down. I assure you we can work everything out," David said soothingly. "I'm sure the children were just . . . trying to do what they thought was best . . . and well, it didn't turn out that way . . ."

"I'll say it didn't!" Fox blustered. "I demand—"

"Look, it's understandable you're upset, but why don't you come down to the convent with me and we can discuss this with the children and . . . uh . . . the sisters?" David suggested, knowing that Rumple would be at the convent and he might be able to deal better with Fox than David could.

"Okay, but I'd better see some action. Those little thieves ought to be thrown in the clink!" Fox growled, and he strode out the door.

David just shook his head and grabbed his jacket from the hook by the door. "Regina, the things you get into!" he muttered, then couldn't help but smile when he recalled how adorable his daughter had looked on the TV as the spokesperson for the Free the Turkey movement. He knew he ought to be shocked and horrified at the tumult the little girl had kicked off, but right then he was past shock and just rather awed at how the whole town was getting involved with either the Save the Birds movement or the opposite, give back the turkeys and "Taste the Birds" for Thanksgiving.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

When Rumple and Bae arrived at the convent, they found Emma parked in her Bug, talking to Alice, who was speaking with some of the Good Morning Storybrooke news crew and they saw a new broadcast of the children inside the prayer garden with Sister Astrid surrounded by turkeys singing, "Onward Christian Soldiers", followed by "Kumbaya!" and a rousing chant of "Free the Birds! Free the Birds!" like they were cheerleaders at a Patriots game.

Not only that, but Snow was there along with the entire fifth grade, who were carrying various signs supporting the Free the Birds movement and marching around yelling, "No more turkeys! We're eating ham! Free the birds! Pardon them! Cause you're the only ones who can!"

And one enterprising little kid was standing holding a tin can with a slit in it and yelling, "Donations! Give your donations here! To save the turkeys and ransom them! Put your donations here!"

"Donations? Holy God!" Bae exclaimed as they got out.

"Hey, Mr. Gold!" the kid cried when he caught sight of Rumple. "Can you give a poor turkey a break this season? Please?"

"Here," Gold said, and put a fifty dollar bill into the coffee can.

"Papa! What are you _doing_?" Bae gasped.

"Supporting charity," replied his father as they walked up to the doors.

"Yeah well, charity begins at home," Bae muttered. "Besides, they _stole_ those turkeys."

"Not according to their lights," Gold sighed, then he did a double take as he saw Snow marching in front of her class holding a sign that read **Make a New Tradition This Year—Eat Tofurkey!** "Or Snow's either." He indicated the schoolteacher.

"Oh my God!" Bae gasped at the sight of his mother-in-law. "What is she doing?"

"Supporting the Free the Birds movement," Emma groaned as she came up to them. "I can't believe Henry's involved in this."

"Really, dearie?" Gold just raised an eyebrow.

"On second thought, who'm I kidding?" Emma snorted. "He's just like his grandparents . . . a sucker for lost causes."

"Excuse me?" Gold gasped.

"C'mon, Gold, you know it's true," she said.

"Emma! I'm not a sucker!"

"You took me on . . . and if I wasn't a lost cause when I first came here, I don't know who was," the sheriff admitted. "But God, that kid and I need to have a long talk when we finally clear all this up."

"With both of us," Bae said grimly. "And maybe more than a talk too."

"Hey, Mr. G!" Alice called, running up to them.

"Alice! Where's Belle?" Gold cried upon seeing his former housekeeper.

"She's uh . . . inside the convent talking to Mother Superior," Alice said softly. "I can't believe what's going on here, can you? And there's my Gracie and Alina right in the middle of it, thick as thieves! Lord, does that remind me of Belle and me when we were girls."

"You staged a protest and stole turkeys too?" Emma joked.

Alice chuckled. "Nah, but we helped the stableboys and kitchen lads learn how to read, and ran a little school on the side . . . and that wasn't exactly kosher back in Avonlea."

"Now I know where Alina gets it," Gold snorted.

"Ha! Mr. G, you did it too . . . Belle's told me about the time you rescued that sheepdog from that knight," Alice pointed out.

"That . . . was different!" he protested. "The dog was almost dead in the road and that idiot knight was going to run her over if I didn't rescue her."

"Uh huh. And when the owner came to get his dog back, you told him it died . . . and the dog was lying right there on the floor inside your castle," Alice snickered.

"The owner was this creepy scummy guy! I wouldn't have trusted him with fleas, much less that poor animal," Rumple replied. "Besides, Belle loved Saffy!"

"Saffy?" Bae repeated.

"Safflower was her whole name," Rumple said defensively. "And she was a companion for Belle in the castle." He smiled reminiscently. "Such a lovely collie, she was. A red-gold sable and white little thing . . . I buried her beside the rose arbor when she died."

"How'd she die?" asked Bae.

"Old age. Found her beside the hearth one morning, she'd slipped away in her sleep, old girl. Best dog I ever owned."

"And you liberated her from that idiot," Alice smirked. "Like father, like daughter."

"Alice!" he glared at her. "All right, let me see if I can get in to see Mother Superior," Gold said. "Does Belle know about the children and the protest?"

"Uh, she probably does now. But that wasn't why she originally came here," Alice hedged.

"Why did she?" asked Gold curiously.

"You'll have to ask Belle that," Alice said, just as Jeff came up. "Hey, gorgeous! Can you believe the hot water your little princess got herself into this time?"

"Pardoning turkeys!" Jeff shook his head. "You know, maybe Grace has something there, Alice. I never really liked turkey . . ."

"Jeff! Turkey on Thanksgiving is like . . . like Santa Claus on Christmas!" Alice gasped. "You can't have one without the other . . ."

She led her husband away, still arguing about the merits of having turkey for Thanksgiving.

Rumple, Emma, and Bae mounted the steps to the convent, and Rumple rapped on the door loudly.

"Mother Superior, I demand that you send the children out right now!" he said, his voice soft, yet with a steely undertone.

Bae found he had to catch himself before he uttered an automatic, "Yes, sir," in a kneejerk reaction to _that_ tone.

Blue appeared in the doorway, and said quietly, "I'd love to, Mr. Gold, but a request for sanctuary is a sacred trust that must be honored."

"You've got to be kidding! They're turkeys!"

"Yes, they are, but it's also the children who must be considered. They are taking this very seriously and I just can't disregard their feelings even if it is to save their . . . um . . . dinner!"

Rumple hit himself in the forehead. "Emma, do something!"

"What? Cuff them? Read them their Miranda Rights?" the sheriff moaned.

Snow came up to them, holding her cell. "I just talked to Belle. She told me Regina's in the convent with Henry and Alina demanding a pardon for all of the turkeys?"

Mother Superior nodded. "Yes, your majesty. The children are in the prayer garden with. . . eh, the flock. . . and Sister Astrid."

"They refuse to come out until we agree to pardon the stupid birds!" Rumple said exasperatedly.

"Well, then pardon them!" Snow said reasonably.

"It's not that simple, dearie!" Rumple began, just as David pulled up with Mr. Fox on his heels, along with several other concerned citizens, including Dr. Hopper, Granny, Ruby, Marco, Victor, and Jay Mason, Hans's father. Just then a truck pulled up and all the dwarves got out as well.

"Hey, mayor!" yelled Leroy. "What side are you on?"

"What?" David cried.

"Of the debate, of course," Grumpy said. "Are you for or against?"

"Now it's a _debate_?" Bae muttered.

"Uh . . . I want to eat my turkey on Thanksgiving," David said.

"Yeah, since he paid for it," snorted Fox.

David peered over at the marching schoolchildren and then he gasped as he saw his wife marching with them. "Snow! You're . . . _supporting_ this?"

"Of course, David! Regina's right . . . we need to free the birds!" Snow called as she marched about the convent.

"Free the Birds! Free the Birds!" the children chanted.

Fox gaped at them. "You little hoodlums!" he bellowed. "You're all conspiring to ruin me!" He shook his fist at the children. "You all ought to be whipped and sent to bed without supper!"

"Hey, Fox, you take it easy," Emma ordered. "You lay a hand on those kids and I'll arrest you for assault."

"Assault? Assault? How about robbery?" Fox demanded, his eyes bulging. "Where's my compensation, Sheriff Gold? Or do you condone thievery because _your_ son's in on the ring?"

"The ring?" Bae snapped, coming over to confront the angry farmer. "Buddy, my son wasn't part of a ring, he's just a kid trying to save some turkeys. They're kids, not criminals."

"They _stole_ my property, Gold!" Fox yipped. "I want to see some punishment!"

Bae crossed his arms over his chest. "Nobody punishes my son but me."

Fox backed down then, not willing to go up against an angry Baelfire. "I'm suing all of you! And your delinquent children!"

"I say save the birds!" Sneezy cried, and then grabbed a sign and started marching alongside Jefferson, Victor, Snow, Bashful, Archie and the children.

"Hey! I like my turkey!" objected Happy.

"Me too!" cried Sleepy.

"So do I!" cried Dopey.

"I say we start a countermovement," Alice cried.

"Yeah!" Ruby cried, and pulled a sign out from her car that read **Taste the Birds! Turkeys Are Meant for the Table!** "Come on, guys! All those who want to eat turkey for Thanksgiving, step right up!"

"And taste the birds!" Granny cried, and then she joined her granddaughter, Sleepy, Happy, Dopey, Bae, Marco, and David.

They began marching around, singing "The Thanksgiving Song" and Dopey was wearing a pilgrim hat.

Doc held up his hands. "I'm not getting involved. I'm staying out of it."

"Leroy!" yelled Sneezy. "How about you?"

"Uh . . . I like turkey, but . . . I gotta stand with my girl."

"Why don't you try and convince her to tell the children to end this protest before someone gets hurt?" Rumple suggested.

"Uh . . . okay, Gold," Leroy agreed reluctantly. He banged on the door of the convent. "Nova! Hey Nova! You gotta stop this and let those kids come out and come home!"

Soon they heard Nova's lovely soprano quit singing "Kumbaya" and come to hover over the convent garden wall in her fairy form. "Sorry, Grumpy, but .. . the right of sanctuary is sacred."

"They're _birds_!"

"Sanctuary is for ALL living things, Grumpy."

"Nova, it's Thanksgiving! And while I understand your position, a lot of people well . . .it's like _tradition _to eat turkey."

"Maybe we need to change the tradition then."

"Gold, can't you . . .err . . . magic them out of there?" Leroy asked.

"Leroy, what do you mean _magic_ them out? Those're my kids in there! I'm not going to traumatize them by magicking them out of there!" Rumple cried, aghast. "Who do you think I am . . . Lord Voldemort?"

"Who's that?" asked Marco.

"Fictional wizard," Alice informed him. "The bad guy in Harry Potter."

"I don't believe this! All you Golds are _insane_!" Fox cried. "Worrying about saving stupid turkeys . . . who's going to save Thanksgiving?" He glared at Nova. "This is all _your_ fault, sister! You and those like you who encourage these brats to ruin honest businessmen like me . . ."

"_You_, an honest man, Fox?" sneered Jay Mason. He was a tall well-muscled man dressed in jeans and black boots and white T-shirt that rippled as he flexed his arms. He had straight hair and bright blue eyes and reminded one of Thor the thunder god. He was class A mechanic at the Storybrooke auto body shop, though once he had been an adventurer who'd gone on the quest for the Golden Fleece. "Don't make me laugh. You're about as honest as a crooked mile."

"I'll bet you put your delinquent up to this, Mason!" Fox snarled, getting right in the other's face.

"Get that finger out of my face, Fox, before you lose it!" Jay snapped. "You're a fine one to talk, you cheating shyster!"

"Cheating? Me? You lie! It was your kid who put his thieving fingers on my turkeys!"

"Yeah, well, you started it by cheating me over my hay!" Mason growled.

"Oh, cry me a river, Mason!" Fox yipped.

"I'll throw you _in_ the river, you mangy skunk!" Jay snarled, and shoved Mr. Fox.

"Whoa! Guys, stop it!" Emma cried, coming between them. "Settle down! Let's all . . . calm down!"

"How can I calm down, Sheriff Gold, when nobody's listening to me?" Fox yelped, frustrated.

"Come over here, dearie, and we'll talk," Rumple said, and he drew Fox off to the side, close to the convent wall, where they could still hear the children singing snatches of "Kumbaya".

"You want to make a deal with me, Rumplestiltskin?" asked Fox suspiciously.

"Well, dearie, that _is_ what I do," Rumple replied. "So . . . let's make a deal, Fox."

**A/N: What kind of deal will Rumple make? And did you notice I put the sheepdog that was mentioned in one episode in the show in there, because I couldn't resist exploring that little tidbit of Rumple's past. **

**Rumple's Recipe Corner:**

**Here's two more for you, dearies!**

**Rumple's Buttery Garlic Mashed Potatoes**

7 cups peeled and cubed Yukon Gold potatoes6 cloves garlic, peeled1/2 cup low-fat milk1/4 cup Parmesan cheese, grated4 tablespoons butter1/2 teaspoon salt1/8 teaspoon pepperPreparation:

Place potatoes and garlic in a saucepan. Cover with water; bring to a boil. Reduce heat. Simmer 20 minutes; drain. Place drained potatoes and garlic in a mixing bowl. Add remaining ingredients; beat with mixer until smooth. Serves 6 to 8. May double if necessary.

**Belle's Candied Yams**

4 large or 6 small sweet potatoes

1 stick unsalted butter

2 cups brown sugar

¼ cup heavy whipping cream

2 ½- 3 teaspoons cinnamon

½ teaspoon nutmeg

couple dashes ground cloves

1 ½ – 1 tablespoon real maple

½ tablespoon real vanilla extract

1 bag mini marshmallows

Preheat oven to 350

Wash and dry yams

Cut off the tips of yams.

Peel yams.

Slice yams into ½ thick circles

Place into a 12 x 9 casserole dish. Set side

In a medium size pot, melt butter over medium heat.

Add sugar and stir until well blended

Add whipping cream and stir until creamy.

Stir in cinnamon, nutmeg, clove, maple, and vanilla extract.

TASTE THE MIXTURE AND MAKE SURE IT TASTES YUMMY. ADD MORE SPICES IF NEEDED.

Pour mixture over yams.

Cover with foil and bake for 40 minutes.

Put marshmallows over top of yams.

Remove foil and bake for an additional 20-25 minutes.

Plate and spoon syrupy sauce over the yams. Serve immediately.


	7. The Heart of the Matter

**7**

**The Heart of the Matter**

"All right, Gold. What kind of deal are we talking about here?" Fox demanded, his odd amber eyes starting to sparkle and his nose twitching in anticipation of deal-making. Though he had started out as a fox, twenty-eight years as a human had given him street smarts, and he was savvy about getting what he wanted . . . and what he wanted was to get back some of his self-respect and his money. "And just so you know . . . nobody pulls the wool over my eyes and gets away with it . . . not even your brats!"

Rumple raised an eyebrow. "Looks like they succeeded pretty well to me . . . but that's not the heart of the matter, dearie. I can understand you're upset . . . you've had your paycheck stolen right out from under your nose, been made to look like a total idiot, and by a bunch of grade school kids, no less . . ."

"Yes!" Fox growled. "It's not fair! I fed and raised those darn birds—well, my son helped, and was counting on the money from them to . . . err . . . pay off a few debts I owe . . ."

"Been a bit too free with the cards down at the Rabbit Hole, dearie?" Rumple queried knowingly. That was no surprise, everyone in town knew of Fox's penchant for gambling . . . on anything.

"Uh . . . dice, actually," Fox said, shrugging. "But anyway, those turkeys were going to get me in the black again, Gold . . . except your bleeding heart brats interfered! Now what are you gonna do about it? I can press charges, you know. They stole what was mine, and the law's on my side for once."

Rumple nodded slowly, knowing that Fox was right. Legally, the children had committed theft by liberating the turkeys from Fox's farm, no matter that they had only intended to free the birds. He knew a lot of the townsfolk were inclined to look the other way, since it was children who had done the deed, especially since one of them was a mere toddler, and it was for a good cause. He spread his hands. "Look, Fox, you're a parent, you know that kids will be kids, and sometimes they don't think about consequences before they act. They thought they were doing the right thing—"

"By stealing my turkeys?" Fox blustered, though he understood perfectly well where Gold was coming from.

"No, by freeing an animal destined to end up on a chopping block," Gold corrected. "From what Henry and Alina have said, they didn't steal your turkeys with the intent of making a profit, but with the intent of protecting them, like you would an abused animal. And intent matters as much as the deed, dearie."

"Oh, yeah?" Fox said belligerently.

"You know it," Gold said, his own eyes glittering. "I'm sure you also know that if you persecute children, it'll make you look like the biggest villain ever. Now is that what you want? I don't think so." He crossed his arms over his chest. "So here's what I propose. You don't take any legal action against the children or my family . . . and I promise I'll compensate you for the loss of one turkey and any others who decide now not to commit to buying one. There are still plenty of people who want to eat turkey for dinner tomorrow, so I doubt your profits will suffer too badly."

"What about your brats? They need to be taught a good lesson," Fox snapped. "If they were mine, I'd—"

"—but they're not yours, dearie," Rumple interrupted swiftly. "Which means you've got no say in how we deal with them. Yes, we shall impress upon them the error of their ways, and rest assured they'll know what they did was wrong."

"How? Skipping a few dinners? No dessert?" sneered Fox.

"That's my business, dearie," Gold said sharply. "You'll be compensated monetarily for your losses, and get back the turkeys . . . all save for one."

"Why all except one?" Fox asked suspiciously.

"Because I need that one to end this protest," Rumple replied. "And I'm also sorry that my family has caused you such anxiety and aggravation, Fox."

"Humph!" Fox snorted.

"You needn't be so bitter, dearie. If anything, you're making out like a bandit on this deal," Rumple pointed out. "Now, I need to speak with Mayor Nolan about something. So, are we agreed? Do we have a deal?"

Fox considered carefully. "Okay. You compensate me monetarily and punish those kids for touching my property and I'll drop my lawsuit, Gold. And you can have your one turkey too."

"Deal struck!" Rumple said, and held out his hand.

Fox clasped it. Then he said, "How soon can I expect my money?"

"After Thanksgiving," Gold replied. "Just keep a tally of how many birds you have returned to you and then give me a figure. I'll write you a check. Oh . . . and don't try and cheat and add more turkeys than you have, Fox. I'll know . . . and nobody cheats me and gets away with it." His expression suddenly became as forbidding as stone. "Am I clear?"

Fox gulped hard. The truth was, he had been thinking about fudging the numbers a bit . . . but seeing Rumple's hard uncompromising glare made him quickly reconsider that line of thought in a hurry. "Sure, Gold. When can I have my turkeys back?"

"As soon as I speak with Mayor Nolan about something and talk with the children," Rumple said. "Just be patient."

Fox sighed. "All right, Gold. But you'd better deliver . .. on everything."

"I always do, dearie," the pawnbroker declared. "Now, if you'll excuse me . . ."

He turned and left Fox beside the convent wall and went to find David.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Inside the convent, the children sat among the flock of turkeys, watching as Regina fed them some handfuls of breadcrumbs Nova had gotten for her from the convent kitchens. The Storybrooke news crew was still there, filming Regina as she fed the birds, and the other children sat on the benches in the garden.

They had learned that their protest had been taken up by Snow's entire class . . . as well as some other townspeople . . . as had the opposite side of the coin, those who still wanted to eat turkey for Thanksgiving.

"So they're fighting . .. because of us," Henry said glumly. This wasn't what he'd planned on when he'd instituted Operation Turkey.

"Well, not fighting, son," said a cameraman. "Just having a difference of opinion."

"In other words, they're fighting politely," Alina translated. She looked at her nephew and friends. "What do we do now? I just wanted to stop the turkeys from getting killed, not start a war over here."

Nova looked over at them and said, "I don't think it's as bad as that, Alina. There's always two side to an issue, after all."

"Two sides, and right and wrong," Belle said, coming into the garden.

"Mama!" Alina cried, standing up and running over to her. She hugged her mother, who was moving slowly across the path of white stone, one hand supporting her very large belly. "What are you doing here?"

"I was asking the Blue Fairy something when she told me what was going on," Belle replied, hugging her daughter in return. "Alina Rose, what were you thinking? You have the whole town in an uproar, do you know that?"

Her daughter looked guilty. "I know, Mama, but we . . . just wanted to save the turkeys."

"Auntie Belle!" shrilled Regina, coming over to her aunt, wearing a large grin. "Are ya here to help us save the turkeys?"

Belle couldn't help smiling down on the precocious tot. "Hello, Regina. How are you?"

"I'm good! See all the turkeys? We rescued them an' now they're safe!" she gestured about her to the turkeys all around them.

"Yes, I see them," Belle said quietly. " And it's great you want to help them. But Regina, those turkeys didn't belong to you, do you know that?"

Regina scrunched up her face, like she did when someone said something she didn't want to hear. "But Auntie Belle . . . they was gonna be eaten! It's mean to kill them!"

"Yes, but . . . it's also mean to take things that don't belong to you," Belle pointed out, and now she was looking not only at Regina, but at the others as well. She put a hand on Regina's head, and then said, "This little girl might not know the difference, but you are all older than her and you know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

Slowly, the others nodded.

"But Grammy, we just were liberating the birds," Henry argued. "It's not the same thing!"

"Henry Gold, don't you split hairs with me," Belle scolded. "You know perfectly well that taking anything without permission is stealing. Your heart was in the right place, but you should have said something to Emma or your dad if you were worried about the turkeys, not taken them from the farm."

"They never would have understood!" Henry cried. "My dad likes to eat turkey."

"Then you should have come to me or your grandpa or your other grandparents to talk about it. Not gone and . . . and stolen sixty turkeys!" Belle said softly.

"What else could we have done, Mrs. Gold?" asked Hans. "They were going to kill them."

"Unfortunately, doing what you did has caused this whole town to become divided," Belle said quietly. "And that's not what Thanksgiving is about. Thanksgiving was about coming together, about learning to become friends despite differences, the way the Pilgrims and the Indians did. It wasn't about stealing turkeys."

"But Mama, they ate turkey at the first Thanksgving," Alina said.

"Yes, but did you also know they ate other things besides that?" Belle countered. "Venison, chicken, and fish. The Indians were great fisherman, and they made sure they included fish on the menu."

"I never knew that, Belle!" Grace exclaimed.

"It's true. You can read about it in the library," Belle said. "It's something that's been forgotten by a lot of people today, I'm afraid. But perhaps you can mention it on your last broadcast . . . and get our fisherman some business selling their catch. As an alternative to eating turkey."

"That sounds like a good idea," said Eva.

"Yes, and a much better one than taking sixty turkeys and claiming sanctuary for them," Belle said. "Plus, have you any idea how worried your parents must be? Henry, I know that your dad has been going crazy looking for you and Regina since early this morning. And so has your grandpa. We've all been scared something terrible had happened to you and Regina."

"Oh," Henry said, looking ashamed. "I . . . didn't know . . ."

Belle frowned at him. "Didn't know? Or didn't want him to know what you were up to?"

"Uh . . .the second one," he admitted. Then he added, "But I didn't mean to make him worry."

"Nevertheless, you did," Belle said. "As I'm sure the rest of you have also."

Now the others looked guilty as well, and apprehensive.

"And we didn't even know that you were involved, Alina, or you either, Grace, until we saw you on TV," Belle added.

Both girls looked ashamed.

"We're sorry, Mama," Alina apologized. "But we . . . uh . . . just wanted—"

"—to save the turkeys," Rumple said, entering the garden along with Bae, Emma, Snow, David, Alice, Jeff, Jay, and Belinda, who was the twins foster mom. "We know that, dearie, but your actions, no matter how well intentioned, have consequences." He gave all the children a sharp Look of disappointment.

Alina winced. "Papa!" She cautiously approached him. "You're going to make us give back the turkeys, aren't you?"

"I'm afraid so, dearie," he told her, then he frowned sternly at her. "They were never yours in the first place, Alina Rose, and you know better than to steal anything. Even if it's for a good cause. Look what's happened because you didn't think things through."

His daughter hung her head. "I'm sorry, Papa."

"You ought to be," he scolded.

"Unca Rumple! Mommy! Daddy!" Regina cried upon seeing them all together. "Didja come to see the turkeys?" she ran up and hugged Snow. "Mommy, we saved the turkeys!"

Snow knelt and hugged her, saying, "I know, Regina, but . . . those turkeys didn't belong to you. They belonged to Mr. Fox and you were wrong to just take them away."

"Even if you were saving them," David added, trying to impress upon her the wrongness of her actions.

Henry looked up as Bae and Emma came over to him. "Mom! Dad!"

"Henry, do you have any idea how worried I was?" Bae scolded, pulling his son into a quick hug. "I thought you and Regina had been kidnapped or something!"

"In Storybrooke, Dad?" Henry muttered.

"Even in Storybrooke, crimes can be committed, kid," Emma said sharply.

"I almost went out of my mind," Bae continued. "I had to ask your grandpa to use magic to find you, young man."

"I'm sorry," the boy apologized, then he yelped as Bae gave him a sharp swat on the behind. "Oww!" His eyes widened, for that was the first time Bae had ever disciplined him like that.

"Don't ever do that again, tiger," Bae warned. "Or else I'll give you more than just a swat. I'll give you what your grandpa gave me that time I played with fire. Got me?"

Henry gulped, looking at Emma. To his shock, his mother was shaking her head and looking as disappointed as Bae. "Yeah, Dad," he said quickly, not wanting to make his father any more angry than he was already.

"Your father's right," Emma said. "You not only scared him to death . . . and me too, you also committed a crime. Stealing turkeys, for whatever reason, is wrong, Henry."

"But Mom, we were just trying to help them," her son protested.

"Henry, there's a difference between helping and harming," Emma said. "And the fact is, you all broke the law. And that's something I'm sworn to uphold and protect as sheriff."

"Are you gonna, like, under arrest us, Emma?" Regina asked pathetically, looking at her sister with huge frightened eyes. "We just wanted to pardon the turkeys."

"No, little imp, I'm not going to arrest you," Emma said, and all the kids looked relieved. "However . . . like Rumple said, there's going to be consequences to your actions. And one of them . . . is that the turkeys are going back to Mr. Fox."

All the children groaned and Regina cried, "Noo! Emma, they's gonna die!" Huge tears gathered in her eyes. "Mommy, tell her you can't kill the turkeys!"

"Regina, the turkeys aren't yours, so we have to give them back," Snow began.

The toddler shook her head frantically. Then she pulled away from Snow and ran over and grabbed Rumple about the knees. "Unca Rumple! Tell Emma she can't let the turkeys die! You's s'post to pardon them!"

"Why me?" muttered the pawnbroker, then he picked up the child and carried her over to a bench, where he sat down with her. "Listen to me, dearie. Sometimes you can't always get what you want. Now, in the movie, did the president pardon _all_ the turkeys, or just one?"

"Uh . . . just Reggie," Regina admitted.

"Okay. And that's what we're going to do, right, David?" he looked over at Charming.

"Yes. Regina, since I'm the mayor of Storybrooke, that's kind of like the president," David hastened to explain. "So I can pardon one turkey and save it. Now you can pick the turkey I pardon and . . . uh . . . it can stay here as a pet."

"That's right. Grumpy can build it a pen and you can take care of it," Snow said.

"But then we have to give the rest of the turkeys back," Emma said. "Because they belong to Mr. Fox and while it was . . . err . . . heroic for you to rescue them, you can't go around stealing turkeys."

"Emma's right," Bae added. "Because some people still like to have turkey on Thanksgiving. And there's nothing wrong with that."

"I ain't eatin' no turkey, Baelfire!" Regina declared.

"Then you don't have to," David said. "But some of us want to, and we're going to."

"Furthermore, you all owe Mr. Fox an apology for freeing his turkeys," Rumple added. "And you're all going to work here at the convent and help the nuns in the soup kitchen over the holidays. A little hard work never hurt anyone and this way you can make up for taking the turkeys."

"As well as helping Mr. Fox take care of the remaining turkeys through the holidays," David added.

"You mean . . . we gotta work for him?" Hans gasped.

"You do," his father said. "We all agreed on that, son. Instead of sending you to reform school or tanning your hide."

The other parents all nodded.

"Even Regina?" asked Grace.

"She can do small things to help," Snow said. "And next time, children, you need to talk to us before you do something like this. Understand?"

"Yes," they all answered.

"In addition to that, you're grounded for two weeks, Alina Rose, for sneaking around behind my back," Rumple told his daughter.

"Same for you, Grace," Alice added.

"And you, Henry," said Emma.

Belinda and Jay also agreed with them for their offspring.

"And you, Regina Nolan, have five minutes in the corner when we get home," David told her.

Regina started sniffling. "But . . . but . . . Daddy!"

"Never mind that, little girl," the mayor said sternly. "You don't run off from anywhere . . . you could have gotten lost or something."

The child buried her head in Rumple's shirt for a few moments. She was now upset and embarrassed. "Don't see me!" she sniveled, crying a little.

Rumple went to hand her to David, but Regina latched onto him, howling, "No! I wanna stay with you, Unca Rumple!"

Her uncle looked at David. "Uh . . . sorry."

"That's okay. She's mad at me," said her father. "She'll get over it."

Regina continued crying into Rumple's shirt. Sighing, the pawnbroker held her, patting her back. "Hey, little imp. Behave and you won't be in trouble. Besides, don't you want to pick a turkey?"

Regina stopped crying after a moment, then she wriggled off Rumple's lap and took Snow's hand. "Mommy, help me."

So Snow helped her pick out a turkey to pardon, finally choosing a large tom turkey.

Then, with the news crew filming, Regina led the turkey over to where David was, and David tapped the turkey on the back with a scepter Rumple conjured, saying, "I pardon you . . . err, what's his name, Regina?"

"Reggie," the little girl replied.

"Reggie," David finished. "And from this day forward you are a free bird!"

Then everyone clapped and Reggie gobbled loudly.

After the children had all apologized to Mr. Fox, Rumple waved a hand and sent all the turkeys back to the farm, except for Reggie, who would stay in the convent, right now in the prayer garden, until Grumpy built him a pen, and would become the official mascot of Storybrooke, and Regina's pet.

David then went on the TV and explained what had gone on, saying that everyone should go home and celebrate the holiday in whatever way suited them best, and wished everyone a happy Thanksgiving, while holding Regina.

As he did so, Rumple turned to Belle and said softly, "Mind telling me what was going on with you, dearie?"

Belle looked suddenly a little uncomfortable. "Okay, Rumple . . . but not until after dinner tomorrow."

"Is . . . something wrong with the babies?" he asked, concerned.

"Not exactly," she hedged. "The babies are healthy according to Dr. Jo. This has to do with something else. I promise, we'll discuss it later, though."

He put an arm around her. "All right, Belle. Now I think we need to head home." Together with Alina, they headed for his car. Operation Save the Turkey was over. Just in time for Thanksgiving.

**A/N: Next up, the Gold family Thanksgiving dinner. Who can guess what they'll be eating?**

**Rumple's Recipe Corner:**

**Gold's Chocolate Pretzel Pecan Pie**

1 pie crust (store bought or homemade)

2 large eggs

1 c light corn syrup

2 T unsalted butter, melted

1 t vanilla extract

½ c packed light brown sugar

1 t orange zest

½ t ground cinnamon

¼ t kosher salt

2 c pecans

18 mini pretzels, broken

¾ c semisweet chocolate chips

Heat oven to 350. Put pie crust in 9 inch pan. Refrigerate until ready to fill.

In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, corn syrup, salt, butter, vanilla, sugar, cinnamon, and orange zest. Stir in pecans, pretzels, and chocolate chips. Spoon mixture in the prepared pie crust. Bake for 30 minutes.

Cover the pie with foil and bake until the filling is puffed and center set—15 -20 min more. Then put on wire rack to cool. Serve.


	8. A Golden Thanksgiving

**8**

**A Golden Thanksgiving**

_Thanksgiving morning:_

_Fire Mountain dojo:_

Emma found herself awake at seven o'clock the next morning, despite the fact that she didn't have to wake up early, as she was off on Thanksgiving . . . unless there was a real emergency, like the whole town getting bombed or something. She slipped from her cozy bed, leaving her husband asleep for once and walked down the hall to look in on her son, who thankfully was asleep where he belonged. She checked twice before making herself go into the kitchen and make some tea.

Her recipe for her Thanksgiving rolls sat upon the counter, a silent reminder that she had yet to make her contribution to today's dinner. She eyed the paper ruefully. "I hope I don't burn them," she muttered, and started getting out the things she would need to make them.

She drank her tea and ate an English muffin while she read through the recipe again, making sure she remembered exactly what to do, recalling the way Alice had patiently shown her how to make them, going through each step slowly and calmly.

She heated the milk in the microwave until it was warm and stirred in the yeast and some maple syrup, letting it sit until it was frothy.

As she sipped the remainder of her tea, she heard the quiet patter of someone entering the kitchen. She turned to find her son watching her, his hair sticking up like a haystack. "Henry! You're up early."

"I wasn't tired anymore. What are you doing, Mom?" he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"I'm . . . uh . . . making rolls for Thanksgiving," she said.

He blinked. "You're baking? I didn't think you knew how," he blurted, then he gave her a rueful grin. "Sorry, that didn't come out right."

Emma chuckled. "Yeah, it did. I know I'm not the world's greatest cook, but Alice gave me a few lessons, so here I am, trying to make these rolls here." She showed him the paper with the recipe.

"Maybe I can help you," her son suggested. "Alice taught me some things too."

"Sure, kid. And if these turn out terrible . . . I bought crescent rolls," Emma said, smirking slightly. "They're in the fridge."

"I'm sure you'll be fine, Mom. Just . . . follow what the recipe says," Henry stated. "Okay, what step are you on?"

"I just did the first one," Emma told him.

"Uh . . . okay, now we have to cut up some butter, and mix together the herbs," Henry said.

"You do the butter, I'll do the herbs," Emma said, and she handed him a bowl and half a stick of unsalted butter.

Together, mother and son worked on making the rolls, and soon Emma had the dough formed and they took turns kneading it, and getting flour all over their pajamas and themselves.

"Mom, you have flour right there," Henry said, pointing to her chin.

"Where?"

"There," he said, and promptly dabbed her face with his finger, covering her chin in flour.

She mock-glared at him and then smeared flour on his nose.

"Look, it's Frosty!" she teased.

Henry crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out at her. "Now it's Frosty on crack!"

Emma started laughing.

"Hey, what's going on in here? You having a party and forgot to invite me?" Bae asked, coming into the kitchen. He glanced from his flour-covered wife to his son and snickered. "You two having some problems?"

"No. We were having a food fight," Emma said, then she threw flour at her husband, getting him right in the face.

"Aww! Ten points, Mom!" Henry cheered.

"I'm going to get you for that, wild swan," Bae mock-growled, and then stalked Emma around the kitchen. He grabbed a fistful of flour from the counter and threw it at his wife, getting it in her hair.

"Baelfire! You're dead!" she shrieked, then she ran at him and smeared her floury hands all over his shirt.

"Emma! That's my limited edition Phoenix Fire Mountain shirt!" he objected.

"Now we're even, since you got flour in my hair, hotshot," she returned impudently.

"Dad, don't be a girl," his son remarked.

Bae whirled on him. "You just call me a girl, mister?" he demanded, pretending to be angry. "Get over here!"

Henry ducked and tried to run out of the kitchen, but Bae was quicksilver when he wanted to be, and he caught the fleeing boy and began to tickle him unmercifully. "What did you call me? A girl? Huh?" his father half-growled.

Henry collapsed against him, howling with laughter. "Okay . . . I take it back . . . s-sorry . . . you're not a girl . . ."

Bae relaxed his hold slightly, and Henry almost wriggled free.

The boy gave him an insolent smirk, and cried, "You're Wonder Woman!"

"Excuse me?" the martial arts instructor promptly dragged his son back to him and began to tickle him unmercifully, until the boy was laughing so hard he was almost in tears. "Now what do you say, huh?"

"Stop . . . please . . ." Henry gasped.

"Bae . . . you're going to make him wet himself," Emma said, grinning.

"Payback for what he just said," he replied, tickling his son's ribs.

"Dad . . . I'll be good . . . you're Hercules . . ." Henry giggled.

"That's more like it," Bae said, and stopped tickling him. "The Stiltskin Tickle Torture works every time to keep mouthy brats in line," he said to Emma.

"Uh huh. And I'm going to ask your papa how many times he needed to use it on you," Emma threatened.

"Don't you dare!" Bae yelped. Then he released his son. "It works on nosy wives too," he purred.

Emma grabbed a wooden spoon from the drawer. "Those hands make one move towards me, Gold . . ." she waved the implement threateningly.

"Who do you think you are, my mother?" her husband teased, then he ducked her retaliatory swat and pulled her into his arms, kissing her soundly. "You were saying?"

"Forget it," she murmured, kissing him back.

Henry rolled his eyes. "Aww, God! Get a hotel!"

"Quiet, tiger," Bae ordered. "Unless you want some more torturing?"

"No!" his son yipped.

"What are you making anyway?" Bae asked after he quit kissing Emma for the third time.

"Maple-rosemary rolls. Alice gave me the recipe," Emma said. "And it's a good thing I put them to rise before you came in here." She looked about ruefully. "This kitchen looks like World War III."

"Uh . . . yeah . . ." Bae agreed.

Flour was everywhere . . . on the counter, the floor, the walls . . .

"Good thing I've got magic," Emma said, then clapped her hands and a green wave of light flew about the room, cleaning the room and their clothing in a twinkling.

"Now this looks like Betty Crocker cooks here," she said, pleased.

"You've got to teach me that spell," Henry said, and hugged her.

"Let her concentrate on her cooking, tiger," Bae told him. "Otherwise we might end up eating cardboard."

"Thanks a lot!" Emma cried, and she whacked her husband with her dish towel.

"Hey! I'm citing you for domestic abuse," Bae accused.

"You call that abuse?" Emma smirked. Her blue eyes gleamed. "Henry, get him!"

"What? Hey!" Bae yelped as both his son and wife flew at him . . . and began tickling him.

"It's Swan's Revenge!" Henry cried, attacking his father behind the knees.

"Stop, tiger!" his father ordered, laughing. "Damn it . . . how'd you know I'm ticklish?"

"Somebody tipped me off," Emma cried gleefully, tickling his ribs.

"Dammit, Papa!" Bae groaned, and danced away from his tormentors . . . until they cornered him against the table.

The kitchen rang with laughter as the three horsed around . . . until Emma's timer beeped and it was time to take out the dough and make the rolls.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Over at the Charming's loft, Snow was busy cutting up all different kinds of apples for her apple pie and putting them in a bowl. She had already rolled out the pie crust and put it in the pie plate and was currently tossing the apples with some lemon juice when Regina came into the kitchen wearing her Pocahontas costume. "Hi, sweetie!"

"Mommy, whatcha doin'?"

"I'm making apple pie," Snow answered, slicing an Empire apple.

"Ooh! I love apple pie!" Regina yelled, standing on a chair near the counter so she could see what Snow was doing. "Can I help?"

Snow smiled at her daughter, thinking how ironic that request was. Then she just decided to go with the moment, and nodded. "Sure you can! Get that big spoon there and stir these apples for me."

Regina picked up the large metal spoon with the long handle and began tp stir the apples as Snow added them.

"Now what?" she asked when Snow was done peeling them all.

"Now we add the cinnamon and sugar, nutmeg, and ginger," Snow informed her.

"I stir it, Mommy!" Regina said, stirring vigorously as Snow added the ingredients to the apples.

Snow smiled at the child, who stirred so much that some of the cinnamon and spice mixture got on her face, making her look like she'd been splattered by mud. "Okay, Regina, that's enough. Now we have to put it in the pie plate."

Snow took the spoon back and began scooping the apples into the pie plate, filling two pie crusts with the mixture. Then she took the pre-rolled crusts and put them on top. She showed Regina how to flute the crusts and make them even, and then let the child brush beaten egg whites on them and sprinkle the tops with sugar.

Then Snow cut slits in them and slid them into the oven to bake.

She set a timer, then said, "Now you want to help me wash the dishes?"

"Uh huh!" Regina clapped and got out her little stepstool and together she and Snow washed the bowls and spoons and Snow washed the knife she had used to cut up the apples.

The little girl had fun swishing the sponge about in the soapy sudsy water, and Snow taught her a familiar tune as she did so, reflecting that this was possibly the most fun she'd ever had with Regina before—baking an apple pie. Life was just full of little miracles, she thought . . . then tweaked her daughter's nose, making her giggle.

"Mmm! What smells so good in here?" David asked, coming into the kitchen.

"Daddy! Mommy and I baked apple pies!" Regina told him, jumping off the stool and into his arms.

"Is that what I smell?" David asked, then he pretended to nibble on Regina's neck. "Mmm! Fee fi foe fum . . . I smell a little girl with cinnamon! And I'm gonna eat her all up! Yum!"

Regina shrieked in pretend fear. "Help! Mommy!"

"I'll save you!" Snow cried, and pretended to "fight" the giant while Regina scrambled away towards the phone.

"What're you doing, Regina?" the giant called.

"I's callin' for help!"

"Who're you gonna call?" David laughed wickedly.

"Unca Rumple!" she yelled, and picked up the phone.

"Quick, Snow!" David gasped. "Get the phone before she really does call him!"

"She knows the phone number?" Snow cried.

"I've got it on speed dial," panted her husband.

"Regina, stop!" Snow called. "Look, the giant is friendly now," she said, and hugged David. "True Love conquers all."

"Yay!" squealed the little imp. "'Cause if he was mean an' nasty, I was callin' Unca Rumple to kick his butt!"

David rolled his eyes. "She thinks Rumple can kick my butt."

"What do you mean she _thinks_ he can? Honey, sorry to break it to you, but she _knows_ he can," Snow pointed out.

"Oh, gee thanks, Snow!"

"What? It's true."

"Yeah, well, you could have . . .exaggerated a little," David said defensively.

"Okay . . . she knows he can kick your butt six ways to Sunday," Snow returned impishly. "And that's why I'm glad he's family."

"Mommy, when we goin' to Unca Rumple an' Auntie Belle's house?" Regina queried.

"Later. When the pies are baked," Snow told her. "David, is the gravy made?"

"Did that last night, hon. And Alice is cooking the you-know-what," he whispered to her.

"I know. And Belle's making ham and some cod with bruschetta," Snow reminded him.

"Yay, ham! An' no turkey!" their daughter bellowed.

"That's what you think," David snorted. It had been arranged that some of the family would eat turkey and some would eat ham and fish, depending on what they preferred. But he hadn't told Regina that, not wanting her to have a fit.

"Let's comb your hair, chatterbox," said Snow.

"'Kay! I gets the brush," Regina called and ran into the bathroom to grab the hairbrush.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

In Gold's Victorian, Belle was basting the ham with some special habanero pineapple glaze while Rumple and Alina set the table with the good Irish linen table cloth, the Delft blue and gold china and Waterford crystal water glasses and champagne flutes, though the flutes were for sparkling cider for herself, Rumple, and the children.

Rumple put a cornucopia made of chocolate in the center of the table, which had cookies and chocolate covered Oreos, pretzels, and graham crackers spilling out of it, accented with fake maple leaves.

"There! Doesn't that look lovely?" he asked Alina.

"It does, Papa. You should take a picture of it with your phone," she said, gazing at the long table in the dining room, which hadn't held so many people since Emma and Bae's wedding.

Gold reached into a pocket of his jacket for his cell, and just as he went to snap a picture, Nala jumped onto the table and sat next to the cornucopia, her tail wrapped about her paws, like a statue.

"Aww! How cute!" Alina giggled.

Gold took a picture, then went to take the kitten off the table, saying, "Pretty baby, your mama would have a fit if she saw you on the table." He cuddled the black cat to him, who purred and rubbed her face along his chin. The sorcerer reached into his other pocket and withdrew a handful of treats and set the kitten down. "Here, Nala. You eat these and after dinner, you'll get some turkey."

Nala meowed and stropped his ankles before settling down to eat the cat treats.

Rumple stroked her some more, before he rose and went to see if Belle needed help in the kitchen, leaving Alina to arrange some of the desserts on the buffet table, and plug in the Crock Pot with the spiced apple cider in it.

"This should be the best Thanksgiving ever!" Alina said to Nala. "Because it's not just me, Papa, and Alice anymore . . . it's all of us."

Smiling, she arranged the cups for the cider around the Crock Pot, and put the ladle next to it, sniffing the aroma of cooking ham, stuffing, and candied yams that filled the whole house with their tantalizing, mouthwatering smell.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Around three o'clock in the afternoon, the rest of the family started to arrive. Alice, Jeff, and Grace came first, with Alice bringing the turkey, pumpkin pie, green bean casserole, Indian pudding, and sweet potato bisque. Alice went to help Belle in the kitchen, and after Rumple had made his mashed potatoes, shooed him, Jeff, and the girls out the door and told them to go play horseshoes until everyone else arrived.

Jeff and Grace teamed up against Rumple and Alina, and they were tied two to two when Bae and Henry arrived and soon after them David and Regina. They all wished each other Happy Thanksgving, and Regina, who was still in her costume, handed out hats to all of the family.

"What's this, dearie?" asked Rumple as Regina held out a paper Indian chief's headdress to him.

"It's a Indian bonnet, Unca Rumple!" Regina declared.

"And why do I need one of these?" he asked, kneeling down so he could speak to her at her own level.

"'Cause you is the chief of the Indians, an' you need to put it on an' wear it."

"You want me to wear _this_?" he asked, wincing. The bonnet's "feathers" were slightly droopy, and colored lovingly if inexpertly by Regina's little hand.

"C'mon, Papa," Bae snickered. "You're . . . uh . . . Chief Shaman Dark Dealing Dearie."

"I'm _what?"_ Rumple glared at his son. "And who are you—war chief Pain-in-the-Ass?" He pointed to the headband with three "eagle" feathers Bae had in his hand.

Jeff started laughing, holding in his hand a Pilgrim hat. "Good one, Rumple. And your grandson there's Heap Big Trouble," he indicated Henry.

Henry grinned. "Who're you, Jeff?"

"He's Charles Ingalls," Grace put in. "And I'm Mary. And my mama's Caroline."

"From _Little House on the Prairie?"_ Alina cried. "But Mary goes blind, Grace."

"So? That's when she grows up, and I'm blond, so I have to be Mary. I can't be Laura. You could though, except you're the chief's daughter. Princess Magic Touch."

"How about Magical Mischief?" Henry suggested. "What's Grammy called?"

"Auntie Belle's Princess Pretty Heart," Regina put in. "Mommy's Princess Snow Bird, an' Daddy's . . . uh . . ."

"Shepherd Prince," David said quickly before anyone could name him.

"What's Emma?" Alina wondered.

"Emma's Princess Shoot-'em Up," Regina informed her.

"Oh, brother!" Bae rolled his eyes. "And what about you, Regina?"

"I'm Pocahontas, Bae!" she cried. "Don'tcha _know_ that?"

"Little Mischief," Rumple translated. "Fitting, dearie."

Regina gave him a gamin grin. "Now put you hat on, Unca Rumple!"

"Maybe we ought to change her name," her uncle speculated. "To Princess Big Mouth Bossypants."

"No!" Regina yelled. "I's _Pocahontas_!" She put her hands on her hips and glowered at her uncle. "Now you put you hat on!"

"Hey! You don't talk like that to your uncle," Charming reproved. "How do you ask?"

Regina huffed, then she said, giving Rumple her best puppydog eyes, "_Please,_ Unca Rumple? With a cherry on top?"

Rumple groaned. "Okay!" Then he put on the war bonnet.

Regina whooped, then ran around the horseshoe pit neighing and screaming war cries.

Bae stared at her. "What'd you feed her, David? Three Five Hour Energies?"

David shrugged. "Sometimes she's like that, I don't know why. She only ate one cookie."

"And how many did she sneak behind your back?" Rumple asked knowingly.

"Uh . . ." Charming looked rather chagrined.

"That's what I thought."

"Shut up, Rumple!" he ordered.

The sorcerer smirked. "Word to the wise, David. Don't ever let her watch Babe. Or read Charlotte's Web . . . at least not till she's twelve. Otherwise we'll have a save the pigs crusade next and be eating cookies for Christmas."

"Uh . . . you're right. Never thought of that. I'd better warn Snow."

"Now let's play some horseshoes," Bae said. "We'll have a tournament."

The tournament had just gotten underway, however, when they were all called inside to eat by Alice.

"We can finish this later," said Charming, and he started inside. His mouth was watering from the delicious aromas coming from the house.

They all filed inside, wearing their Thanksgiving hats.

Rumple surprised Belle coming out of the kitchen with her pan of candied yams, and promptly levitated it from her and floated it to the table, then wrapped his arms about her and kissed her, whispering, "Happy Thanksgving, my princess Pretty Heart."

Belle smiled up at him. "Is that my new Indian name?"

"According to Regina," Rumple replied.

"What'd she call you?"

"Bae called me Chief Shaman Dark Dealing Dearie," Rumple said.

"Oh? That's good, but I prefer Chief Sexy As Hell in Leather Pants Dearie," Belle whispered into his ear.

Rumple chuckled wickedly. "I prefer that too . . . when we're alone. Now, I think we need to go to the table . . . before there's a riot."

He escorted Belle to the table, she was on his right, for he was at the head of the table, with Bae on his left, and the others were all spread out down the line. Rumple picked up his glass of sparkling cider and said, "Here's to our family, who have, despite all obstacles, managed to get together for this holiday. Happy Thanksgiving, dearies!"

"Here! Here!" Jeff said.

They all drank, and then Belle said, "Before we eat any of this delicious food, I think we need to all say what we're thankful for this year. Rumple, you start."

Rumple paused, then said, "I'm thankful to have my family here to celebrate this holiday with me. Belle?"

Belle thought for a moment. "I'm thankful we're all together too . . . and that my babies are healthy and lively." Then she put a hand to her tummy, as one of the twins kicked her. "Bae?"

"I'm thankful to have my wife and son here beside me . . . and be reunited with the father I thought I'd lost. Emma?"

"I'm thankful for finally having a family again," Emma said, blinking back tears. "And . . . uh . . . I have something else to tell you after dinner." She looked at Alice. "Your turn, Alice."

Alice cleared her throat. "I'm thankful to have such wonderful friends, a hot and sassy husband, and my baby girl back where she belongs."

Jeff hugged her. "And I'm thankful for everything Alice said, except I've got a hot and sassy wife. David?"

"Uh . . . I'm thankful for all of my family, old and new, and that this dinner looks as good as it smells. Snow?"

"I'm thankful for finding my husband and daughters again," she smiled at Regina. "Grace? Your turn."

Grace smiled shyly. "I'm thankful the curse is broken and we all have our memories and families back. Alina?"

"I'm thankful my mama's alive . . . and so's my brother and we're all getting along with each other. Henry?"

"Uh, I'm thankful I found my dad . . . and we're all here eating dinner together. Regina?"

"Uh . . .I'm thankful we don't gotta eat turkey an' Reggie was pardoned!"

Everyone cracked up laughing.

Then they all began to pass around the dishes. Snow, Jeff, and the children all took some of Belle's ham and fish, as well as the other side dishes, bypassing the turkey which Bae had carved up and was now eating happily with his cranberry-orange relish.

Emma, Belle, and Rumple ate some of everything, and Belle praised Emma's rolls, saying, "They taste like yours, Alice."

"Well, she's the one who taught me how to make them," Emma said, blushing.

"And I helped, Mom," Henry reminded her.

"Yes, you did," Emma said. "You were a big help to me, and I hope you'll continue to be so." Then she took some stuffing and ate it with some gravy. "God, this is incredible!"

There was the turkey, all crispy and juicy, the ham with the spicy sweet habanero pineapple glaze, the cod bruschetta, the chestnut cranberry stuffing, green beans with crispy sausage casserole, Bae's relish, Emma's maple-rosemary rolls, Belle's candied yams, Rumple's buttery garlic mashed potatoes, the creamy and rich sweet potato bisque, and David's homemade gravy and broccoli cheddar bake.

Everyone ate till they were stuffed, and still it looked as though they could feed twenty extra people.

"My God, we need to call up the convent and tell the sisters to come and pick up some of this for the needy families," Emma exclaimed.

"We already did that," Gold said. "And now you all get to take home leftovers, dearie."

Nala stood up on his knee, meowing.

He reached down and petted the black cat, murmuring, "Okay, dearie. Here's your turkey," and he snapped his fingers and a piece of turkey cut itself into bite-sized pieces and he put it on a small plate and gave it to his begging kitten.

A purring Nala licked his hand before tearing into the turkey as if she hadn't seen food for a month.

Regina frowned. "Mommy, Nala's eating turkey."

"Honey, Nala's a cat and cats eat turkey," Snow told her.

"And so does your father," David pointed out.

"Me too," Bae said.

Regina looked like she was about to protest, but then Rumple said, "Think of it this way, dearie. You eat what you like and I'll eat what I like and then we'll both be happy. Okay?"

Regina thought about it for a few long moments. Then she nodded. "Okay, Unca Rumple."

"Now finish your ham," David urged, watching until his daughter ate what was on her plate.

Henry, Alina, and Grace were on kitchen duty, as it was part of their punishment, and while they were all washing and scrubbing, Belle, Alice, Snow, and Emma were making coffee and putting away leftovers and packing some up to take home.

Meanwhile, the men helped clear the table and set out the desserts.

After about an hour or so, the coffee was brewed and so was the cider and they all ate dessert, which was Indian pudding, apple pie, chocolate pretzel pecan pie, pumpkin pie, and the chocolate cornucopia.

While they all nibbled their way through their dessert, Henry, Alina, Regina, and Grace all played Thanksgiving trivia with each other. Bae and David watched the football game, while Jeff, Rumple, Alice, and Emma played poker for pieces of the cornucopia. Belle and Snow discussed the nursery for the twins, and Snow gave Belle a questioning glance, her eyes widening when Belle shook her head no.

"Okay, I'm about to go into a coma and sleep for a year," Emma declared. "I feel like I ate the whole turkey. But before I do that, I have something to tell you." She cleared her throat. "Bae! Quit screaming at them to sack the quarterback and come over here for a minute."

Her husband looked up, met her eyes, and rose to his feet. He came over and sat down next to her, saying softly, "Okay, wild swan. Go ahead."

Emma cleared her throat. "Uh . . . Bae and I have a surprise we want to share with you."

Henry looked up from reading his trivia card. "Like what, Mom? Did you win the jackpot in that scratch off game you bought?"

"No, Henry. Better. I'm . . . going to have a baby."

"Oh my God!" Snow cried, then she hugged her daughter. "Emma, you're pregnant? That's wonderful!"

Henry's mouth hung open. "Y'mean, I'm gonna be a big brother?"

"That's right, tiger," Bae was smiling quietly.

"Congratulations, Bae!" Rumple said, and hugged his son. Then he winked and said, "You sure you didn't plan it this way? Because our kids are going to be . . . well . . . almost a year apart in age."

"I swear, Papa, I had no idea . . . until Emma told me this morning. Right after she . . . uh . . . put her buns in the oven . . . umm . . ." he flushed a he realized what he'd said.

Alice and Jeff started giggling, while Emma smacked him in the head.

"Real nice, hon!"

"Hey! That . . . uh . . . came out wrong, okay? But it's the truth. You did tell me after you started baking them," Bae said defensively.

"Better watch what you say, Baelfire," Rumple warned. "Pregnant women are dangerous."

"Oh, Emma! I'm so happy for you," Belle said. "Now our little ones will grow up together."

"I'll be an aunt again," Alina said.

"And I'm going to be a grandma," Snow said, beaming. "David? You're going to be a grandpa again. David!"

"Huh? Snow, they just made a touchdown!" David cried, pumping his fist in the air. "Yeah! Stick it to 'em!"

"_David!_ Didn't you hear what I said?" Snow demanded.

"Uh . . . you said something about me being a grandpa. What about it?"

"Somebody hit him in the head," Snow growled. "David, Emma's having a baby!"

David froze. Then he turned to look at Emma and Bae. "You're having a _baby_? For real?"

"No, Dad. We were kidding," Emma said, grinning. "Yeah, for real."

"Oh my God. She's having a baby!" he repeated, looking shell shocked.

"Now don't have a breakdown, dearie," Rumple said, smirking.

"Rumple . . . she's having a baby . . . and that means . . . I'm going to be a grandfather . . .and so are you . . ."

"Yes, I know. Now breathe, Nolan," Rumple urged. "Before you hyperventilate. Snow, maybe you ought to get him checked out for an anxiety disorder."

"I don't have any anxiety disorder, Rumplestiltskin!" David cried. "I'm just . . . startled, that's all." He looked at Emma sheepishly. "Sorry. It's just . . . you kind of . . . caught me off guard. That's the last thing I expected . . ."

"It's all right, Dad. You should have seen Bae's face when I told him. He almost fell over right there in the hallway," Emma said gleefully.

"It was the last thing I expected either," Bae began.

"Where's Regina?" Grace asked, noticing the toddler was missing.

Suddenly, Regina walked into the room, her belly bulging under her Pocahontas costume. "Emma, guess what? I'm havin' a baby too!"

Henry nearly fell out of his chair.

So did David.

Alina and Grace burst out laughing.

"I guess she didn't want to be left out," Snow said, cracking up.

Regina frowned, then walked up to Rumple and said, "Unca Rumple, what's so funny? I'm havin' a baby too!"

Rumple's lips twitched as he struggled to control his mirth. "I see that, Regina. Um . . . that's great . . . and what are you going to name this bundle of joy?"

"Sofia, of course!" Regina stated. "An' once she's born, I'm gonna put her on my back like the Indian mommies do and she'll be a . . .what's an Indian baby called again, Unca Rumple?"

"A papoose," he answered, biting his cheek hard.

"Uh huh. A papoose!" Regina warbled.

"Regina!" Henry cried, regaining his power of speech. "You don't even have a boyfriend. How can you have a baby?"

"I don't need a boyfriend, Henry," the little tot informed him. "I just wished for a baby an' now it's here. Like the fairies do. Duh!"

"Yeah, Henry. Like the fairies!" Alina said, then she started laughing hysterically again, along with Grace.

"Is there such thing as an Indian fairy?" Bae wondered.

"According to Regina, there is," Belle said, wiping tears from her eyes.

Emma smiled at her little sister. "So . . . Regina . . . when are you due?"

The little girl looked puzzled. "I dunno, Emma. I'm not doin' anything 'cept havin' a baby."

Emma chuckled. "I mean, when are you having the baby?"

Regina shrugged. "Whenever I want to, I guess. When're you?"

"Uh . . . in about thirty-eight weeks," Emma replied.

"An' what's it gonna be?"

"I don't know. I'll have to wait and see."

"I'm havin' a girl an' her name's Sofia," Regina told her. "Maybe you'll have a girl too. An' what are you gonna call her?"

"Emma and I will have to talk about that," Bae said, his eyes twinkling.

"It could be a boy," Henry said.

"Nope. It's a girl," Regina said decisively.

"How do you know?" Henry snorted.

"I just do," Regina answered, then she turned and walked out again.

A few moments later, she returned holding Sofia in her arms. "See? See? Here's my baby girl, Unca Rumple!" she ran over to show him her doll.

"She's beautiful, dearie," Rumple said.

"Make her a . . . papoose," Regina ordered. "Please!"

So Rumple conjured a little cradleboard and showed her how to put Sofia in it. Regina put it on her back and ran about, showing her new "baby" to the rest of the family.

"I wonder how long that phase will last?" David said.

Rumple started chuckling. "She's a little girl, dearie. It usually lasts a long long time."

Nala jumped up on his lap and he began to pet the kitten, thinking that this holiday had been one surprise after another.

Little did he know that the biggest surprise of all was yet to come.

**A/N: How do you think Rumple will react to Belle's news?**

**Rumple's Recipe Corner:**

**And here's two more for you!**

**Snow's (and Regina's) Apple Pie**

1 c sugar

3 T flour

1 tsp cinnamon

¼ tsp ginger

¼ tsp nutmeg

1 T butter

1 tsp lemon juice

1 egg white

7-8 thinly sliced peeled apples, different varieties-Rome, Empire golden delicious, Macintosh, Fuji, Granny Smith, Honey crisp

Pie crust

Additional sugar for sprinkling

In small bowl combine sugar, flour, spices—set aside. In lg bowl, toss apples with lemon juice. Add sugar mixture, toss well to coat. Line 9 inch pie plate with half the pie crust. Place filling into crust, dot with butter. Top with remaining crust, flute edges, cut slits on top. Beat egg white till frothy and then brush over pie & sprinkle with sugar.

Bake 375 35 minutes, increase temp to 400 and bake 10-15 minutes more until golden.

Pie can be frozen before baking, just do not brush with egg white or cut slits till ready to bake.

Cool and then serve with ice cream!

**Emma's Maple-Rosemary Rolls**

1 c whole milk

1 pkg dry active yeast

3 T pure maple syrup

4 T unsalted butter, at room temp

1 sprig + 1 T chopped fresh rosemary

2 ¾ c of flour

1 ½ t kosher salt

Oil, for bowl and pan

1 t sea salt flakes

In small microwave safe bowl, heat milk till warm to touch. Stir in yeast and 1 T maple syrup, and let sit till frothy, 10 min.

Meanwhile, chop 3 T butter in medium bowl, whisk together the rosemary, kosher salt, and flour. Make a well in the center and add the milk mixture and chopped butter. Using a wooden spoon, stir gently till just mixed (will look shaggy). Transfer to lightly floured surface and knead until smooth 5-6 min.

Put dough into lightly oiled bowl and cover with plastic wrap. Set in warm place and let rise till doubled, about 45 min. Lightly oil a 8-9 in round cake pan. Cut dough into 16 pieces, lightly roll into balls, and arrange in prepared pan. Cover with plastic wrap and let rise again till doubled, about 30 min.

Heat oven to 350. Melt remaining T of butter. Gently brush tops of rolls with butter, bake until puffed and lightly golden brown 30-35 min.

Meanwhile, in small saucepan, heat the remaining T of syrup and rosemary sprig over med low heat till barely simmering. Remove from heat.

When rolls are done, discard rosemary sprig and brush syrup over rolls. Sprinkle with sea salt. Let cool 15 min on wire rack before removing from pan.


	9. Belle's Little Indisposition

**9**

**Belle's Little Indisposition**

After the excitement of Emma's announcement, it was about three hours till everyone calmed down, including Regina. Snow asked if she might borrow their bathroom, and gave Regina a quick bath, finally getting the toddler out of her costume and into her fuzzy purple Rapunzel feet pajamas. It had been a long day, fun-filled, but tiring, and Snow nodded off on the couch while trying to read Regina a bedtime story. David did also, while watching the game, which was typical of the serotonin induced sleepiness turkey produced.

The Carstairs, and Emma's family were also kind of sleepy, so after taking home bunches of leftovers and Alice's soup tureen, they decided to head on home, before they all ended up in comas behind the wheel, as Emma put it.

"What about them?" Emma asked, smothering a yawn, as she gestured to her sleeping parents.

"Don't worry, they'll wake up in a few hours, and if not, well, they can always spend the night here," Rumple said. "It's not like we don't have plenty of room."

Once they had left, Alina said she was going upstairs to take a nap, and took Nala with her, leaving Rumple and Belle downstairs with a rather sleepy slightly cranky Regina.

Rumple could see Belle was tired, so he said, "You stay here, dearie, and drink some tea and I'll take care of Little Mischief there."

"All right, Rumple," Belle agreed, glad to put off their talk for a bit longer.

Rumple approached the toddler, who still had Sofia in her cradleboard, and said, "Regina, do you want me to read you the rest of that story?"

"Uh . . . okay," she said, and nestled in his lap while he finished reading Too Many Turkeys, a new Thanksgiving story Snow had bought her. Then she squirmed and whimpered, "Unca Rumple, my tummy hurts."

"Hmm, I'm not surprised after how much apple pie you ate tonight," he said. He summoned his bottle of cherry cordial and a spoon and said, "Will you be a big girl and take this for me? You've had it before, remember? On Halloween after you ate too much candy."

"Do I hafta?" she whined.

"You do if you want that tummyache to go away," he replied.

She pouted and dithered, for even though she knew quite well the soothing potion didn't taste bad, she was cranky. "Don't want medicine!"

"Okay, dearie. Your choice. I guess you like to suffer then," he said, knowing full well why she was refusing it. She was being contrary because she was tired and hurting.

After a few more moments, with her little tummy aching from indigestion increasing, the toddler started sniffling.

Rumple sighed. He could tell the child was just being stubborn, and she was in pain, so he cuddled her against a shoulder and rubbed her back, saying, "Dearie, if you take my cordial, you won't hurt like this."

She squirmed and cried a bit more before finally saying, "Okay . . ."

Then Rumple sat her up and had her swallow the standard two teaspoonfuls of his potion. "There! See, was that so terrible?"

She shook her head and then snuggled with him. The potion worked quickly, and soon her tummy felt better, and she put her head on his shoulder and fell asleep.

Rumple sat with her a few more moments, thinking about how wonderful it felt to have a child cuddled up against him again, her breathing a soft hush in his ear, the sweet scent of cherries wafting to his nostrils, and the feeling of warmth as she curled into him. The old feeling of protectiveness swept over him as he held her, and he thought that soon enough he'd be holding his own children like this, and a new grandchild as well. And there was nothing quite like it. It was the greatest magic, he thought, as he gently rocked his niece.

When he determined she was truly asleep, he gently placed her beside Snow and covered them with one of his afghans, figuring they'd all sleep here the rest of the night. He could have put Regina in her little bed upstairs, but figured the child would be better with her mother beside her, and so opted to leave her on the couch.

David was snoring slightly in the recliner, so Rumple put another blanket over him, turned off the TV, and dimmed the lights.

"Belle, they're all sleeping like they're under a curse, so what do you say if we went to bed ourselves?"

Belle had almost nodded off at the table, so she quickly agreed, and they went upstairs, leaving the Charmings all drifting happily through dreamland.

Belle waited until Rumple was in his pajamas and brushing her hair as they sat on the bed together before she reluctantly admitted to herself it was time to tell Rumple what she had discovered from the Blue Fairy yesterday. She ran her hands over her bulging abdomen, feeling the babies within her shifting and settling before she said, "Rumple, do you remember when the plane almost crashed returning to Storybrooke at the end of our vacation?"

"Of course I do. It was those damn Fabrizios, may their intestines knot up and strangle them for eternity," he growled, recalling how helpless he had felt and the way the dark sorcerers had put all of their lives and those of the other passengers in danger. "What about it?"

"Well . . . you know how Snow and I had to sprinkle pixie dust all over the plane?" Belle murmured. "Snow talked to Blue and she . . . told her that . . . there was a slight chance . . . very slight . . . that the pixie dust might . . . affect a fetus . . . but we really had no choice . . . we could have all died . . . so I helped Snow . . . and now . . ." her throat closed and she was afraid to say the words.

Rumple almost didn't comprehend what she said for a moment. His hand halted moving the brush through her hair. "Affected how, Belle?"

"Well . . . you know those . . . symptoms I've been having . . .?"

Rumple froze.

"What are you saying? That our baby . . . babies . . . are . . ._f-fairies_?" He almost couldn't speak the word aloud, as if by doing so it would somehow make it come true.

"No, Rumple. That's impossible," Belle said quickly. "But they could have fairy-like powers, according to Blue."

"Fairy-like powers," he repeated dazedly. His head was whirling. "So . . . that's why you've transformed our home into a garden . . . and when I woke up one night and the bed . . . was flying . . .that wasn't a dream either. And the time you were sleep walking and gliding down the hall, dreaming about pixie dust and granting wishes . . ."

Belle moved to clasp his hand in hers. "Those were all symptoms that . . .the babies most likely have fairy magic to some degree. Blue wasn't sure though if one or both of them had it . . . but she did say it was likely."

"Then . . . that's why you were at the convent yesterday."

"Yes. I needed her to confirm what was going on," Belle admitted softly. "And now she has. Rumple . . .please understand . . . I would have told you sooner . . . but . . ."

The brush fell from his hand, landing on the carpet with a soft thump.

"But what?" he made himself say. "You knew . . . all this time . . . you knew and you didn't tell me?" he was unable to keep the shock and hurt from his tone, which was followed by anger that she had kept this secret from him. "Why, Belle? _Why_?"

Belle looked at him, and saw his brown eyes wide with alarm, glistening with hurt, and sparking with anger. She winced, guilt and regret clawing through her. "Rumple, I'm sorry . . . but I thought . . . I thought there was nothing to worry about. That maybe Blue was just being . . . overcautious. So when I didn't feel any differently . . . I just figured they were okay and I didn't need to worry you by telling you they might . . . have been affected. I know how you feel about fairies . . ."

Rumple's mouth tightened. "So you thought it better if you never let me know? Something could have happened to my—to _our_—babies and you didn't tell me because of how I might feel about _fairies_? My God, Belle! All this time . . . I thought I was hallucinating . . . imagining pixie dust and . . .you knew . . . and didn't say a word!"

"Rumple . . . I should have told you right away, but . . . like I said, I hoped it was nothing . . . and then when I realized what was happening . . ." She pulled her hand free and twisted it about her other one, as she sometimes did when nervous and upset. He was right. She should have told him right away, instead of hoping it might go away, like some foolish child hoping if she cleaned up a broken vase no one would notice.

Rumple drew in a deep breath. His mind was still reeling, still trying to process the fact that his babies had fairy powers and his beloved wife had deliberately kept it a secret. He could feel the weight of the knowledge pressing down on him, making his temples throb. "When you realized what was happening, you should have told me, dammit!" he half-growled. "Instead of keeping me in the dark. How exactly did the Blue Fairy say they might be affected? Word for word. What did she say?"

Belle moistened a throat gone dry with dread. She was not afraid for herself, she knew Rumple would die a thousand deaths before he would ever harm her. She was afraid she had destroyed his trust in her, afraid that he would resent his children. Licking her lips, she made herself recall Blue's words.

"She . . . did a test . . . with her wand, to determine if they had powers. A blue light glowed . . . and then she said that yes, the spell revealed to her that one or both of them had some magic . . . she couldn't be sure because they were so tiny, it was hard to tell, but . . . she said the pixie dust could have affected them in a number of ways. They could . . . be able to alter their size at will, use wands and pixie dust like a true fairy, they might have the ability to speak with animals, cause plants to grow . . . they might need to drink nectar and honey along with milk when they're born . . ."

"What about wings? Will they have them? Can they fly?"

"It's a possibility, yes. She couldn't say for sure. They could also have the power to grant wishes, tell truth from lies . . .from what she said I was experiencing, there was a better than 90% chance that one or both of them had powers . . ."

"And if . . . if we had known about it sooner . . . would there have been a chance to . . .reverse the effects of the dust?" Rumple queried sharply.

Belle shook her head. "Probably not. What's done is done. Rumple, I was wrong not to tell you, I know that now and I wish I had been honest with you from the beginning. But I didn't want to upset you, especially knowing how you feel about fairies . . ."

"How I feel about fairies? Yes, I don't like them. And do you know why? Because I feel that a fairy was directly responsible for tearing apart my son and me. If she hadn't given Bae a magic bean and convinced him the best way for him to break the Dark One's power was to go to another world, we never would have been separated! He could have found another way . . . I could have found one . . . but because she meddled . . . because she thought in her wisdom she knew best . . . I lost my son! Yes, I know I'm partly to blame as well, but she started him down that path. And when I came to her afterwards for help in getting him back, she refused me! She told me it was all my fault and refused to help me!" His hand clenched on his knee. "That's why I don't like fairies, dearie! Because they can't be trusted. They claim they use their powers only for good, but actually they're no different than any other magic wielder—because they use them how they see fit! And they're as capable of any of us of making mistakes, they just don't admit to it. They're self-righteous and hypocritical. And their good intentions cause more harm than anything."

He was seething now, and she could feel his magic rousing, surging through the air like a silent clap of thunder.

"Rumplestiltskin . . . I understand how you feel . . . it's why I waited, because I didn't want you to . . . resent our babies . . . though I hoped I would never have to worry about it," she whispered, her blue eyes filling with tears of endless regret.

He stared at her, shocked. "You thought . . . is that the kind of man you think I am?" he demanded.

"Rumple, no! I didn't mean it like that!"

"Then say what you mean, dearie!" he snapped, rising to his feet. "Say you don't trust me. Because that's how I feel right now. Like you didn't trust me enough to tell me that my children might be born different . . ."

"Rumple, I do trust you!" she cried.

"Do you? Then why did you wait so long to tell me?" he asked bitterly. "Did you think I would hurt my children? Is that it? You think I'm still a monster." He shook his head, blinking back tears.

"Rumple! You never were a monster! I've always known that."

"But you didn't trust me enough," he said thickly. He walked towards their bedroom door.

"Where . . . are you going?" she stammered, tears flowing down her cheeks.

"For a walk. I need to be alone. To think. Go to bed. You needn't wait up," he said shortly, then he walked out the door, his shoulders hunched slightly, as if he carried a great burden.

**A/N: So there's what Rumple thinks about Belle's secret. I know this story now ends on a cliffhanger . . . on purpose . . . and the story arc will continue with the Christmas segment of this series. So . . .hope you liked this and tell me what you think will happen next. Thanks so much for all your support and please review and let me know your thoughts! **


	10. Sequel Alert

This is an alert for my new Baby Regal/Gold family fic called A Red, Green, and Gold Christmas-it continues right where this one leaves off! Enjoy and have a Happy Thanksgiving!


End file.
